Grand Tour
by ShaViva
Summary: On a trip around Europe, Captain Evan Lorne gets a lot more than he bargained for. Pure Lorne, AU, and following on from Call Sign, set two years later. Features some OC's from that story too. A link to the art central to the story is on my profile page.
1. Medusa

**Grand Tour**

Author: ShaViva

Rating: T

Content Warning: Coarse language mostly, some violence and adult themes.

Season: Set in 1999, four years before Enemy Mine.

Summary: On a trip around Europe, Captain Evan Lorne gets a lot more than he bargained for. Again, pure Lorne, AU, and following on from Call Sign, set two years later. Will feature some OC's from that story.

Classifications: General, mystery

Pairings: none

Spoilers for: None ... extremely minor spoiler for the audio drama Impressions, read by Kavan Smith.

Acknowledgements: The internet! You wouldn't believe how many websites I visited researching this one. Will mention them as best I can where it's most relevant, or at the end of the story.

Disclaimer: The Stargate characters, storylines, etc aren't mine. I am unfortunately not associated in any way with the creators, owners, or producers of Stargate or any of its media franchises – if I was Lorne would have been in A LOT more episodes. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, equipment, etc are the property of whoever owns them. The original characters and plot and anything else I made up are the property of me, the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

Copyright (c) 2009 ShaViva

oOo

**Authors Note:**

This story was born out of listening to the Stargate Atlantis audio drama Impressions, starring Lorne and read by Kavan Smith. He says "when I was younger I went on a trip around Europe ... backpacking ..." and I thought, _oooh – that's interesting!_ I did take direction from what little detail about the specifics was included (because I knew next to nothing about art before I started this) but no other link to that story is intended or implied.

This is by far the most research intensive piece I've ever written. I live as far away from Europe as you can get. I've never been there, never seen any of the things mentioned in the story in real life ... I've relied heavily on a number of internet sites to give this story its atmosphere and populate its environment, so please be understanding if inadvertent errors have crept in.

It's all written so there shouldn't be delays in posting ... just the time I always take to edit each chapter before I post it.

The story starts in June of 1999 ... Lorne is now 28 and still a Captain – everything else will be revealed as the story progresses. I hope you enjoy!

oOo

_**Grand Tour:  
**__An extended journey made by educated people (not necessarily the aristocracy) to Italy and other countries in the 1700s,  
broadening their knowledge and experiences and serving as an education rite of passage._

**Chapter 1: Medusa**

_Location: Italy  
Key Date: Thursday, 4th June, 1999_

Captain Evan Lorne turned sightless eyes to the window, not really registering the scenery flashing by outside as he considered the blank sheet of paper in front of him.

He'd hitched a ride from the base at Vicenza to Pordenone in the early morning before catching the next available train to Florence and the first destination in his journey. Travelling first class – money wasn't an issue for someone who'd been earning a salary for years but had never really spent it on anything beyond basics – he'd managed to find a compartment that for the moment was unoccupied. The trip was more than five hours long and already half over but still he'd failed to put pen to paper.

What could he say that would explain the abrupt turn his life had taken? "_Dear Mom, I've run away to see the world"_ didn't really cut it as he'd been in the air force since leaving high school and had already seen plenty of that world.

"_Dear Mom, a friend you never met was killed and I needed to get away_" wasn't a letter he wanted to write either. He wasn't ready to get into that kind of explanation, no matter how true it was, and the details would only bring back memories his family had struggled to overcome.

With a sigh, Lorne rolled his shoulders to loosen tense muscles, tapping his pen lightly against his cheek as he thought, and then finally began to write.

"_Dear Mom,_

_Don't be worried okay. I _know_ – that's a terrible way to start a letter but I needed to state it up front before you read the rest of this. I'm taking a break from the air force ... just for a few months. And no, I haven't gone AWOL – got full approval from Vicenza AFB and the folks at Air Combat Command in Virginia. When I get back I should be assigned somewhere in the US, so that's good, right?_

_Okay, so the break. Remember how we always talked about the Grand Tours of old? Young men travelling around Europe, soaking up the cultural sites and finishing off their educations? Well, I finally realised something the other day ... I'm not getting any younger and if I want to do something like that, now's the time. I've been so focussed on my career – the flying and then trying to get in to NASA – I haven't taken any time to just kick back and do something purely for the enjoyment of it._

_So that's what I'm doing. Right now I'm on a train to Florence ... got a date with Caravaggio's Medusa. I'll write and make you envious describing what it's like going real life on every painting we only ever dreamed about seeing._

_I'm okay so don't worry about me. Tell Elaine I'll write to her soon._

_Yours, Evan._"

He reread the letter more than once, looking for the things he knew would be red flags to his Mom. It wasn't perfect but without an outright lie, something he never did, it was the best he could do.

Quickly folding it and then stuffing it into an envelope, he wrote on the outside and then tucked it away in his jacket pocket, ready to post once he got to Florence. Sure, he could have called but they were a close knit family. His Mom would have known he wasn't exactly okay inside of five seconds, wheedling the full story from him probably ten seconds after that. And that just brought him back to the 'not ready to talk about it' thing.

Eyes back on the view outside, his thoughts were still elsewhere. His commanding officer from the Aviano base (where he'd been stationed after finishing up at Cold Lake) had been more than a little surprised when Lorne had requested a meeting and then respectfully stated that he was applying for an extended leave of absence.

Major Lee Harrison wasn't stupid – he'd known some of what was driving Evan but thankfully hadn't made Lorne explain his motivations. Instead the Major had nodded, stated that based on Lorne's service record he couldn't see it being an issue, and promised to endorse the request as soon as it was lodged.

Evan was glad it had been as simple as that because he wasn't sure he _could_ explain why he was doing what he was currently doing. What he'd written to his Mom was true – they _had_ talked about touring the art galleries of Europe and it _was_ something he'd always wanted to do. But if it had been a driving ambition he'd have done it a long time ago. At the back of his mind Evan _knew_ he was using a vague yearning from the past to justify a simple truth. He was burned out and it was either take a break or ... he didn't know what, and didn't want to find out. He'd fed his intellect, his spirit and his ambition for as long as he could remember. And while it sounded beyond corny, the need to feed his soul, to reconnect with the other side of himself, was something he could no longer ignore.

"Time to get some balance," he murmured under his breath, resting his head back against his seat and closing his eyes tiredly.

oOo

Walking down the Palazzo degli Uffizi late the same day, Lorne almost chuckled at himself. Dressed in his civvies – blue denim jeans, dark blue sweater over a white t-shirt, black leather jacket – he felt unlike himself, too used to going around in uniform with its implied identity attached. You didn't have to portray yourself as anything in particular when your clothes alone so loudly proclaimed your place in the world.

But then, that was part of what his journey was all about ... finding himself without the uniform making it easy for him.

It was early enough in the season that the queue to get into the Uffizi Gallery was short. Lorne joined the back, nodding politely to the older couple in front of him before glancing curiously around. The building had been completed in the late 1500s, constructed in part to house the works owned by the Medici family. Gaining entry a few minutes later, Evan walked the long route down the main corridor, eyes on the ceiling frescos as much as they were on the paintings adorning the walls. He scanned the gallery map as he walked, exiting into the narrow courtyard between the Uffizi's two wings and then entering the main structure on the other side again.

He wanted to see everything of course, but visiting this particular gallery wasn't without purpose. He was there for _Medusa_ ... an oil, painted on canvas and mounted on a wooden shield by Caravaggio in 1597 for the reigning Medici of the time. Tracking his way through the halls he finally found her ... standing a few steps away Evan looked at the first of his 'must see' works.

She was impressive ... and unexpected. According to Greek mythology Perseus had used the severed head of the Gorgon Medusa as a shield to turn his enemies to stone. He'd been challenged with what had seemed an impossible task but had triumphed through reason and logic. By the 16th century the image of Medusa had symbolised courage in defeating ones enemies, hence it being commissioned for the work now on display.

What made it interesting, what Evan couldn't have divined from a picture alone was how perspective had been used to create a macabre illusion. The surface of the shield looked concave but was in fact convex and Medusa's head seemed to project into space, the blood at her neck falling to the floor.

Evan stood for untold minutes looking at the work, thinking about what it meant. Courage in the face of impossible odds. Victory. Things he could relate to even though victory wasn't guaranteed, no matter how much courage you applied. Something he'd learned all too well recently.

Medusa ... mouth gaping open in anger and pain. At what she was being used to do – defeat those of her own kind? Or was it horror that twisted her face so cruelly? Because of what she did to those who looked upon her. What a fate – to have none able to glance at you without the death of cold stone. The more Evan thought about it the more he realised that Medusa as a character of legend was haunting and more than a little sad. But the painting wasn't about Medusa. There was a reason the picture depicted her as a severed head. It was about her use as the tool that delivered victory to Perseus, something much harder to see just from the image alone.

Leaving Medusa, Lorne continued through the gallery, stopping here and there but never for as long as he'd stayed with the first work. Closing time was upon him before he was ready. He'd taken the time when he'd arrived in the city to check in at a nearby hotel, doing nothing more than dropping off his pack before going out again. Now he headed back there, already resolved to returning the next day.

oOo

Travelling by yourself had the potential to be incredibly lonely ... if you let it. Evan was comfortable with his own company but equally happy to strike up casual conversation with the locals and his fellow tourists. When the same couple he'd seen at the Gallery turned up at the restaurant he'd chosen for dinner and invited him to join them - introducing themselves as Maria and Harold Luca - he'd accepted with a grateful smile.

"Now, what is a handsome young man like you doing travelling alone?" Maria asked while they waited for their food to arrive. If he had to guess, Evan would have put her at about 50 years of age, maybe five to ten years younger than her husband. She put him in mind of his own mother despite the lack of similarity in their appearance. His mother was slender and delicate whereas Maria was more stocky, solid but still feminine. With her dark brown hair and eyes that seemed almost black, Lorne could see that she'd obviously been quite the beauty in her youth, still evident in her elegant facial features, trim figure, and keen attention to her attire. No, it was that air of maternal caring that had him thinking about his own mother ... and about the letter he'd posted earlier that day.

"I was in the area for work," Evan said evasively, wary of creating more questions he didn't want to answer. "Too close not to take the opportunity to visit the Uffizi."

"And you have someone waiting for you back home?" Maria persisted, only a hint of her native Cockney accent still apparent.

"Leave the boy alone Maria," her husband, Harry, chided, sending Lorne a look of amused tolerance. With a last name like Luca it was no surprise that the other man was the stereotype of a middle to late years Italian male, with the speech patterns to match. "Our children are all married and so we travel to keep each other out of mischief ... but still, my wife is too fond of matchmaking."

"It's okay," Evan smiled easily. "I don't have someone waiting at home. No time to do that kind of thing any justice."

"Some things are too important not to make time for them," Harry took his wife's hand, the love between them evident.

"How long have you two been together?" Lorne asked curiously.

"Twenty seven years," Maria declared proudly. "We met here in Florence ... I was on an art scholarship from London and Harry came here for his work. He was in the exporting business before it became fashionable, locating items for his customers from all over the world."

"It was love at first sight," Harry admitted with a smile. "Knocked me for six and had me wanting to run for the nearest door."

"Obviously you managed to resist that urge," Evan said with an amused smile.

"Best decision I ever made," Harry shrugged. "Maria and I have been partners ever since."

"So you come to Florence regularly – celebrate how you met?" Evan asked.

"We always start in Florence," Maria shared, "on our way to other places. We will spend a week retracing the steps of the past before we move on."

"Steps of the past," Evan repeated. "I like that ... I guess that's what I'm doing too, only it's not _my_ past."

"In a way it is," Harry suggested. "What you see of yourself in the art of the past. For what is art about if not personal reflection?"

"Yeah ... I guess that's what it should be," Lorne agreed.

"So you'll head elsewhere before you go home?" Maria asked with interest.

"I'm kind of playing it by ear," Lorne admitted. "I've got some time owing ... and there're galleries across the continent I wouldn't mind seeing first hand."

"Then perhaps we will see you at one of them," Marie declared with pleasure.

"Perhaps," Lorne agreed as their server arrived with the meals.

The rest of the evening was spent listening to Maria and Harry share stories about their travels and the things they'd seen and intended to see again this trip. Evan let himself be drawn into a discussion about art, admitting to some of the works he'd like to see. When he found himself yawning repeatedly he apologised, excusing his tiredness to the very early morning and long journey he'd completed that day. He stood to take his leave of the couple, thanking them for their company and accepting the business card Harry pressed on him.

"We'll meet and share dinner again Evan," Maria promised.

"I'd like that," Evan returned, shaking hands with them both. He stopped to pay his bill and then slowly walked back to his hotel.

oOo

He returned to the Uffizi again the next day, spending hours looking at its numerous works before finally returning to Medusa as his last stop.

Again he stood before her, lost in his thoughts as he committed the feeling of seeing her in person to memory. If nothing else, going there and seeing the painting first hand ... the feelings it invoked convinced him that he was on the right track ... the Grand Tour. He didn't know what the future held ... it was part of his self imposed rules for the journey to know only his next destination. There was still plenty to see in Florence of course, but he knew where he was going once that was done.

oOo

Two weeks later, and on the train again, Evan sat with another blank piece of paper screaming for him to fill it. He'd spent a few days in Florence before branching out across Italy in a circular route that took him back to the great city.

Before he'd left Florence the first time something had compelled him to purchase art supplies – an A3 sketch book and a basic set of lead pencils. He hadn't brought a camera, knowing that anything he'd want a photo of would lose something in the translation to film. Instead he sketched – a small section of a building or street to represent the galleries he visited, titbits of what paintings had been where, images that hinted at what he'd been thinking as he looked on the great masterpieces – his own personalised record of his journey. Getting around Italy had been easy – bus, walking and hitching a ride where he could, ably assisted by the Italian he'd picked up while stationed in the country.

Looking down, Lorne felt as if the blank sheet were glaring accusingly up at him. He'd played art gallery tourist for two weeks so you'd think he'd have plenty to write about. But he knew he couldn't fob his sister off with a trite account of the things he'd seen. His Mom would have shared his first letter which meant Elaine would be worried about him despite his assurances that he was okay. He'd delayed writing to her - too long - and now he had to give her something.

"_Dear Elaine,_

_I know – surely I've had time in the past two weeks to jot a few words down and send them to you. Or better yet pick up the phone so you can talk to your only brother. I'm sorry ... I have no excuse. I just ... didn't know what to say._

_Two weeks away from things has given me some of the distance I needed ... I _will_ tell you about it eventually but for now just believe that I'm doing okay._

_I saw Caravaggio's Medusa Lainee. She was ... awesome ... gruesome too which just doesn't come over enough in pictures. Dark but not in an oppressive way. If I added it up I probably spent a day just with her. If you believe in the inspiration behind her then you have to believe that courage can make a difference. I guess the real lesson is that courage doesn't equate to victory. It's not about winning the day ... it's about facing your fears and doing what has to be done in spite of them, knowing that you might not succeed. Some days that's a particularly tough pill to swallow._

_So anyway, I'm on the train heading for Budapest and a date with Paál's The Depth of The Forest__. Silence and tranquillity forever undisturbed ... sounds kind of attractive right about now. Although I always did wonder what was hidden in the trees ... maybe, seeing it in person, I'll finally find out._

_Tell Mom I'll write to her soon … and yes, I'll call you … soon._

_Yours, Evan."_

**Authors Note:**

For those of you who are interested in actually seeing a picture of Caravaggio's Medusa, I have set up a page on my website. Go here:

http:// www. shaviva. com/ grandtourpictures. htm

Copy and paste this link and take out the spaces after each forward slash and dot. Alternatively I've put the link on my profile page so you can just click it from there (ff net doesn't allow you to put website addresses into your stories). I'll be adding other pictures there as the story progresses. Thank you to bailey1ak for helping me test this out to make sure it works!

I'm a little nervous about this story for some reason - probably because it practically took over my life during the three weeks where I spent every available minute writing it and I really want people to like it LOL. So please, let me know what you think. Thanks


	2. The Depth of the Forest

**Chapter 2: The Depth of the Forest**

Location: Hungary  
Key Date: Friday, 18th June, 1999

"_Victor Charlie Charlie, I have visual on a possible crash site," Evan took the little plane down below 300 feet, heading for the flash of reflected sunlight glinting somewhere amidst the stretch of rocky mountain terrain. He hadn't asked how the Canadian contingent had managed to get the little Cessna 337 Skymaster all the way to Vicenza from its service on fire fighting detection duty in Dryden Ontario. Instead he'd just taken the chance when offered to fly the Skymaster on another search and rescue mission to find a downed CF-18 and its two pilots._

_Lieutenant Logan Blake ... and Captain John 'Slammer' Jones._

_Lorne __was using his off time after getting reluctant approval from his commanding officer. Not that Major Harrison had a problem with Lorne helping out their allies – as long as he didn't push himself too hard. Evan would __have wanted to fly as many SAR missions as he could anyway, but knowing one of the mission pilots put a whole different spin on that. Even though he was no longer assigned to the Canadian air force he'd still maintained his connections and had kept up with his fellow ex rookie mates._

_He'd actually been excited when Slammer had been posted to Vicenza at the start of Operation Deliberate Forge. __He and John had completed their fighter pilot training together at Cold Lake two years before, the other man the unofficial leader of their group. __They'd stayed in touch but it had been months since they'd really been able to hang out together – Evan staying at Cold Lake after training while John had been assigned to the Bagotville air force base 1700 miles away. Lorne's new wing (Aviano's 31__st__ fighting wing) had been integrated into NATO's 5__th__ Allied Tactical Force along with fighter wings from all the participating NATO countries so it had been like being back on the same team again._

_And then Slammer had taken his Hornet out on a routine 'protect and defend' mission to guard a convoy of supply trucks heading out into the less populated areas to deliver much needed relief to the locals. The trucks had arrived safely but John and Lieutenant Blake hadn't returned home._

"_Base, relay coordinates," flight control requested._

"_Victor Charlie Charlie, 44.5 degrees latitude, 34 degrees longitude," Evan consulted the GPS system before reporting his position._

"_Base, sitrep ... do you have visual on the friendly?"_

_Flying as slow as the plane could go without stalling, Lorne looped the area where he'd seen that flash, covering ground until abruptly he saw it again._

"_Victor Charlie Charlie, I am visual," Evan replied. "I have scatter damage ... half a mile in diameter. No signs of activity."_

"_Base, affirmative. We'll send a HH-60 for retrieval," flight control confirmed after a moment's pause._

"_Victor Charlie Charlie, acknowledged," Lorne continued to circle, nothing but debris standing out against the barren rocks. "Come on John," he muttered worriedly. "Where the hell are you?"_

Startling awake, Evan frowned for a moment before he snapped back into the present with a glance at his watch. His fourteen hour train ride from Florence to Budapest was almost over. It had been tiring sitting around doing nothing for so long ... tiring enough that he'd nodded off for a while there.

Shaking off the unpleasant subject matter of his dreams, Lorne turned his attention to the view. Hungary was one of the flattest countries in Europe, it's most recognisable features the Great Hungarian Plain to the east and the river Danube that flowed through the middle of it.

Although he enjoyed getting a feel for the country as a whole, Evan wasn't there to see it all. He was there for Budapest ... the City of Spas ... Queen of the Danube. A city dating back to the 13th century in one form or another, representing unity in the joining of three cities to make the modern day capital of Hungary. Specifically, Lorne was heading for the Hungarian National Gallery, interesting both for the picture he was there to see as well as the Gallery itself.

The works of the National Gallery were spread over four buildings, part of the former Royal Palace of Buda nestled on the banks of the Danube. Evan exited the train at Kelenföld station, his pack over his shoulders and a detailed map of the city streets in hand. From what he could tell it would take about an hour to walk to the Gallery ... after so many hours on the train he was looking forward to the exercise as well as the chance to choose a small hotel close by to stay for a few days.

It was the kind of day you'd expect for early summer ... sunny but with the hint of cooler winds still in the air. Evan could see the river in the distance, the city a wealth of history through architecture despite the heavy damage it had taken during the second world war. Still a mile or so away from the Gallery he found a place to stay, checked in and dropped off his pack, keeping his sketch book and pencils with him as he continued on.

And then he was on Palota út ... Palace Way. The formal Royal residence was enormous ... old and impressive in a way nothing in his own country could boast. Walking through the main entrance Evan grabbed a gallery map, scanning it quickly for the most likely location for his first port of call.

The Depth of the Forest ... a landscape by László Paál. It was painted in the Barbizon school, named for a village in France where painters had first gathered in the mid 19th century to follow a very basic ideal. That nature could be the subject rather than just the background of a painting. Most likely that was the time that plein air painting had first become so popular. The Barbizon's were all about romantic realism ... although Evan wasn't sure the two concepts could exist together in real life he found the ideal to be attractive in an art context. Paál had taken the principles of Barbizon a step further, portraying more than just an objective reflection of nature by projecting his feelings to the landscapes he painted. You could make a fair assessment of Paál's frame of mind while painting just from the mood the completed works invoked.

At his heart Evan was a landscape painter ... it fascinated him the way no scene was ever fixed. Light quality and brightness, weather, atmosphere, and something indefinable that was as much about the artist as it was about the subject shifted the components of nature and form, making them fluid and ever changing. Lorne painted a scene not to record it like a graphical description, but to capture the mood of the time – his and the scene itself. Paál might not be as well known as the big name painters but to Lorne his body of work was an integral part of Evan's inspiration in his own work. That was true despite his not having painted anything for more years than he wanted to think about. He wasn't ready to crack out the canvas and brushes yet but he could feel the bubbling of ideas and artistic interest in the world around him inside – something he hadn't felt for a long time.

In one of the rooms presenting 19th century painting Evan found his quarry. He stood before Paál's forest scene, surprised to note that it was much bigger than he'd been expecting. The colours were vivid – autumn yellow leaves, darkened trunks glinting almost white in places. Paál had painted one tree as the focal point, its fellows gathered behind it like soldiers covering a comrade's back. A stack of fallen branches lay on the ground beside it as though to advertise the presence of humanity. And there, in the background, almost merging into one of the tree trunks, was a woman. She and the pile of branches did nothing to detract from the wildness of the forest, as though the artist had been suggesting that humanity could not have an impact on the integrity of the forest to be what it was.

The scene invoked a sense of peace the longer Lorne looked at it. To his mind the woman was content to be a part of the forest without disturbing its silence and tranquillity.

"It's an interesting piece, isn't it?"

Evan turned, startled from his inspection of the painting, to see a middle aged man dressed in a dark blue suit standing behind him. Shorter than Lorne, he had that deceptive build that suggested a more muscular physique than one would expect from his outward attire.

"Very," Lorne agreed, turning back to the picture. "I was just trying to decide what might be hidden amongst the trees."

"And have you come to any conclusions?" the man asked curiously.

"Everything and nothing," Lorne returned simply. "Whatever you want to be hidden there, depending on the day."

"I was going to suggest a cart for all those branches but I like your answer better," the man said with a faint chuckle. "Brian Green," he introduced himself, holding out his right hand.

"Evan Lorne," Evan replied, shaking the other man's hand quickly and firmly.

"American?" Green asked.

Nodding, Evan asked "English?"

"Of old," Green agreed. "These days I'm more of a gypsy. I call the world my home," he swept his hands out expansively.

"Well, I like what you've done with the place," Lorne joked. Brian laughed, drawing the attention of the other visitors to the room. "You've been here before?" Evan asked curiously.

"Many times," Green revealed. "Perhaps these aren't the most famous works in the world but I see something different in them every time I visit."

"I put Budapest on my list because of this painting," Evan gestured to the forest, silently waiting to be noticed by anyone willing to give it a chance.

"Then you have excellent taste in art Mr Lorne," Green said approvingly.

"Evan," Lorne returned.

"You have excellent taste Evan," Green acknowledged. "And what other works do you have on that list?"

"Too many to count," Lorne admitted self deprecatingly.

"Well I hope you get to see them all one day," Brian held out his hand again. "It was a pleasure to meet someone who appreciates the paintings in this room as much as I do. I'll leave you to enjoy them in peace."

"Likewise," Evan shook hands again, nodding before turning back to The Depth of the Forest.

What did he see hidden in the trees that day? Secrets or truths yet to be revealed? Sadness when he began to think that perhaps the woman was searching for more than just firewood as she walked silently amongst the trees. Searching for something she'd never find ... just as he'd searched in the mountains of Bosnia for something already gone.

"_Don't go there_," he told himself, resolutely turning away from his thoughts and away from the painting. He'd come back and look at it another day when his mood was more conducive to seeing its positive side. For now there were plenty of other masterpieces for him to enjoy.

oOo

Walking from the Gallery hours later Evan continued along Palace Way rather than heading back to his hotel. He wanted to see the river - the view from Chain Bridge, one of the most recognisable landmarks of the city – should be just the ticket.

Standing in the middle, looking down at the river making its journey through the city, he couldn't help but return to his contemplation of things hidden ... and lost. The downside of travelling alone, not having someone to distract you from your thoughts.

He felt lost ... because he hadn't been able to find that plane before it was too late? Was it as simple as that? The internal need to question everything because one thing hadn't gone the way it should have. Staring into the swirling water below Evan honestly didn't know. The trip might not have helped him resolve anything so far but he did feel closer to his art and that restored something inside he hadn't even known was broken.

Dusk was settling over the horizon. Wanting to get back to his hotel before it got dark, Lorne finally left the bridge and walked briskly back the way he'd come. The accommodation he'd chosen turned out to be popular with young travellers. Evan found himself drawn into the community of tourists during the evening meal, happy to admit to being on extended leave from work without telling anyone what it was he did for a living.

Thinking about it later, he realised he hadn't once admitted to his military connections since he'd left Vicenza base. It wasn't because he was ashamed or worried that being in the air force would have an impact on his travels, either positively or negatively.

It just wasn't who he wanted to be right then ... and that saddened him a little.

oOo

"So, you create as well as admire art," a vaguely familiar voice behind him noted with interest.

Evan glanced over his shoulder, his brow raised in surprised. "Mr Green," he acknowledged the man he'd met his first day in the city.

"Brian, please," Green returned. Nodding to Evan's sketch pad, he continued. "I recognised you from the Gallery a few days ago. When I realised you were drawing I must admit to being curious. May I?" he asked for permission to take a closer look.

"Sure," Evan shrugged, holding out the almost completed sketch. He'd attempted to capture the river side view of the Buda Palace from Chain Bridge, the place he'd chosen as his vantage point.

Brian stood looking at the pencil drawing for a few moments, before getting permission to flip through the previous pages slowly. He took in other scenes in Budapest and all across Italy before looking up with a smile. "You have talent Evan," he complimented, returning to Lorne's current work. "I can't say why but I can almost feel the presence of great works of art in how you've drawn this. Do you paint?"

"I used to," Evan admitted. "Not for a while now ... being here is certainly inspiring me to want to try my hand again."

"One wonders what it must have been like in László Paál's day when painters gathered as a community and inspired each other to experiment and grow as artists," Brian commented as he returned the sketch book.

"You go to the right places and I'm sure they still do," Lorne glanced down at his work before turning his attention back to its subject. In the late day light the river added a sparkle to the edges of the waterfront and Evan felt compelled to extend that effect up the walls of the palace.

"If you ever do more than the occasional sketch, give me a call," Brian held out his business card.

Taking it, Evan read the inscription. '_Brian Green, Curator ... __Green and Black Gallery, London_.' "I thought you said the world was your home," he commented, tucking the card away in his shirt pocket.

"It is," Brian agreed. "I do the work of locating pieces to show in a small gallery I co own. My partner handles the rest of the business. We display well known pieces as well as the work of unsigned artists."

"Well I think that's all a little out of my league," Evan said with a chuckle. "I'm just dabbling ... trying to capture something of what it was like to be here. Because photos just wouldn't cut it for a trip like this."

"Your sketches remind one of the emotions behind the scenes," Brian returned. "Something photos rarely do. I look at the sketch you're working on today and it reminds me of what it was like the first time I came here. That takes more than a little skill and talent."

"Thanks," Lorne wasn't used to getting feedback on his artistic efforts, not since his Mom used to critique every piece he painted, always encouraging him to find his own artistic voice.

"Again, I have disturbed you," Brian said apologetically. "Please, continue. Keep my card ... and if you make it to London perhaps you will visit our gallery."

"I'll do that," Evan promised.

oOo

As with his time spent in Italy, Lorne returned to the National Gallery a number of times before branching out to other locations within Budapest. Another of the works on his personal list of must sees was located close by at the Museum of Fine Arts.

Monet's Fishing Boats.

What Evan had always liked about that picture was the simplicity of its subject ... just three row boats beached in front of a choppy sea. He's always been fascinated with seascapes. As the ultimate in landscapes that continually changed the ocean couldn't be beaten. Monet's work only hinted at that, the focus being the boats themselves, but Evan had always wondered how the artist would have expanded it if he'd taken more of the ocean into the scene.

As it turned out he was in for disappointment. The painting had been taken from active display in preparation for being shipped to be part of a Monet exhibition at the Met. If he wanted to see it he'd have to go to New York ... which was kind of amusing since he was at the painting's home gallery only to find that it would soon be on _his_ home soil. He enquired at the front desk but was told that no one got to see works not on display ... something he'd expected although it hadn't hurt to ask.

He wasn't planning it that way, but within two weeks he was again ready to move on. On his last night in Budapest, Lorne packed what little he carried with him and then sat on his bed for a moment before reluctantly heading down to the hotel lobby. There was just one more thing he had to do before he left Budapest.

oOo

"Hello," his sister's voice brought a smile to Evan's face even as stronger emotions rose inside him. Suddenly he longed to be home ... not the place but the people, his family.

"Hello Lainee," he returned in a casual voice, as though they'd only spoken days instead of more than a month before.

"Evan!" Elaine almost squealed him deaf she was so excited by his call.

"How are things at home?" he asked.

"Fine," she replied. "More importantly, how are you?"

"Good," Evan said automatically, before correcting himself. "Better."

"Drew told me about John," Elaine's voice was thick with tears. Unlike his mother, she had met John a couple of times when Evan had been doing F-18 training, and again when she'd visited Evan during his time in Canada. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too," Evan ground out, his voice low and gravelly. He took a few moments to calm himself, staring blindly across the hotel lobby to the street outside. "Drew called you?" Andrew - also known as Drew - Rider was Lorne's closest friend from fighter pilot school. Evan had seen him at the funeral but hadn't hung around to catch up ... because he'd been due back on base and because even with Drew who understood more than most, Lorne hadn't been ready to talk.

"He was in the area and stopped by to tell me in person," Elaine explained. "He knew you'd take it hard and I guess he heard about your sudden need for leave."

"I ah ...," he frowned, reluctant to tell her the details over the phone. "I couldn't stay there Lainee ... couldn't switch off the 'what if's. Thinking about my failure -,"

"You did everything you could, I'm one hundred percent sure of that," Elaine broke in, her tone chiding him for blaming himself.

"How can you say that when you don't know the full details?" Evan shot back impatiently.

"Then tell me the details," she said firmly.

"Not over the phone," he shook his head even though she couldn't see him. "And not now ... I haven't sorted it out in my own mind yet."

"But soon?" Elaine asked gently.

"Soon," he agreed.

"So ... how's the art tour going?" Elaine changed the subject in a lighter tone.

"I should have done this _years_ ago," Evan replied. "It's ... I can't describe it Sis. I never believed it before now but you really do have to see them in person to truly appreciate just how ... _extraordinary_ some of these paintings are."

"I think you're doing this exactly when you needed to," Elaine said softly.

"Maybe," he agreed. "How's Mom?"

"Worried about you and trying to hide it," Elaine said without apology. "She's fine."

"I'm sorry ...," he trailed off with an audible sigh.

"Where are you going next?" she asked after a few moments of silence.

"The Hermitage," Evan smiled, knowing she'd be envious but determined not to admit it.

"Be careful," Elaine said, her tone full of love and concern. "And don't leave it so long between calls next time."

"Yes Ma'am," he returned teasingly. "And stop worrying about me ... I'll be fine."

"Okay," Elaine paused for a moment and then said quietly, "Love you."

"Love you too," Evan replied just as quietly. He said goodbye quickly, emotions brimming to the surface again. Putting the phone back in its cradle he nodded to the desk clerk on duty and then ran up the stairs, two at a time.

Back in his room, lying on his bed staring up at the ceiling, he could almost laugh at himself. It was beyond ridiculous that a man of his age and experience could be almost brought to tears just by the sound of his sister's voice. He was homesick, although he'd always hated that description for the natural yearning one might feel for the familiar, particularly in the midst of situations alien to it.

Truth be known, he missed his family ... he missed being home ... but he wasn't ready to return. Not yet.

**Authors Note:**

I feel like I need to apologise for John's fate ... I am sorry if I upset anyone. Imagine how _I_ feel ... I'm very attached to all my OCs but for this piece I needed a strong enough driver for Lorne to leave his military life behind for a while. As well there's the simple truth that we all lose people, in the military I imagine more than most ... it's an aspect I always wondered about during SGA because there was a lot of loss portrayed there without any apparent fall out. It's something about the show I always hoped _wasn't_ realistic.

For those of you interested in seeing Paál's Depth of the Forest, I've added it to my webpage for this story. Go here:

http:// www. shaviva. com/ grandtourpictures. htm

Copy and paste this link and take out the spaces after each forward slash and do. The proper link is on my profile page so you can just click it from there too.


	3. The Apostles Peter and Paul

**Chapter 3: The Apostles Peter and Paul**

_Location: Russia  
Key Date: Sunday, 5th July, 1999_

Going to St. Petersburg straight from Budapest was likely to be the longest single leg in Lorne's journey. With that in mind he could have taken a plane, turned a forty hour transit covering almost a thousand miles into a four hour straight line. But he didn't.

The journey wasn't about getting there as fast as possible, and it wasn't just about his 'must see' art. It was about spending time with himself without an impossible schedule and a world of pressure drowning out his internal voice.

He'd coughed up the cash for a first class compartment on the Tisza Express – at least that way he'd get some rest and some privacy on the long journey. As he sat on the train heading roughly north towards St Petersburg, the silence and the complete lack of anything pressing to do had him realising something else.

Maybe he wasn't just on the train because part of the journey was the journey itself. Maybe he was there because he was avoiding something.

He hadn't flown since his trip to Canada after the last search and rescue mission over the Bosnian mountain ranges. There'd been things he'd had to deal with there and then mission reports and sitreps to catch up on once he'd returned to duty. Somehow in all of that he'd managed to avoid pilot duty.

Alone on the train, not even bothering to pretend he was interested in the view outside his window, Evan frowned worriedly. Had he lost his faith in himself as a pilot or worse yet in aviation itself? He didn't want to think that was the case but the facts were there. He'd had the chance to indulge himself in a joyride flight across Europe and he'd decided instead to spend almost two days on a train. There were only so many ways you could explain that ... logically anyway.

Maybe there was such a thing as too much time to listen to your internal voice. Getting up hurried, Lorne grabbed a jacket, stuffing his wallet and key in his pocket as he headed for the dining compartment.

oOo

Even the journeys that seemed endless were over eventually. Despite his private compartment Evan hadn't slept more than a few hours and was starting to feel it even before the train pulled into the station. He knew the lengthy journey would be worth it though, just for the chance to see St Petersburg. The city was situated in the delta of the Neva River and was referred to as The City of 101 Islands, and also as the Russian Vienna because of all its canals and bridges.

Stretching his back and rotating his shoulders to loosen tensed muscles, Lorne walked from the train at Vitebsky Rail Terminal late in the evening.

Not that you could tell what time of day it was from the sky alone. The city was enjoying the tail end of what they called Beliye Nochi – the White Nights. Because St. Petersburg stood at such a high latitude the sun didn't descend below the horizon enough to see the sky darken. Night became indistinguishable from day to the point that they didn't need to turn the street lights on for a few months each year. So while his mind and his watch were telling Evan it was after 10pm it could have been 10am for how bright it was.

The city might feel like it was awake but Lorne was tired ... again with map in hand he set off in the general direction of the Hermitage Museum, some two miles away. Even with a host of incomprehensible street names to wade through the way was easy to follow. He decided to walk to the Museum first, even though it wouldn't be open, just because he was so close.

Situated in what had been the Winter Palace, constructed in 1754 under the reign of Elizabeth, Peter the Great's daughter, the Hermitage was beyond impressive ... and _long_. It stretched for nearly half a mile along the Neva River, the water reflecting off its massive windows creating the illusion that the building was floating above the ground. If the outside was impressive the inside was reputed to be even more so. More than a thousand rooms all unique in fixtures and decor, 117 staircases to traverse and almost two thousand windows you could look out of. Not that you'd have time for that. Lorne had read that you'd have to spend 8 hours in the Museum every day for a year to see the entire collection. He didn't have anywhere near as long as that ... once he'd seen the picture that had brought him there he'd just have to let chance determine what he saw and what was saved for another time.

Walking away from the Museum building tiredness descended again. Lorne found a hotel, checked in and then threw himself fully dressed on the bed. Moments later he was asleep.

oOo

Seeing the pictures you'd admired in books for years was a pleasure Evan hadn't realised would be so powerful until he'd stood in front of Medusa almost a month ago. Trouble was, it could also be confronting, and that was his overriding feeling on seeing The Apostles Peter and Paul for the first time.

At its basic level the picture was simply a snapshot of two men conversing. Painted by El Greco sometime between 1587 and 1592 the picture was a study in contrasts. Paul, a man of passionate conviction and purpose, his red cloak a symbol of the fire of belief. Turned away from his companion, holding strong to his opinion. Peter on the other hand seemed gentle and tender, his pose one of a man seeking to understand rather than convince.

Internally they seemed very different but on the surface they weren't unalike. El Greco had painted them wearing similar robes that seemed to envelop any differences due to stature or physical strength. Both bearded, with long faces and scholarly expressive eyes, to Lorne it seemed clear that they were as much friends as anything else.

Two men with the same purpose, serving it in their own uniquely individual way, not unlike Evan and John had always been. John more like the Apostle Paul, always first up to talk about what was right and how he thought things should be. Evan on the other hand saw himself more as Peter, not meek as such but usually choosing to listen first, to understand what drove a person or a situation, using knowledge to guide the outcome rather than fiery conviction.

They said that life imitated art ... maybe in this case it was the reverse, that art was imitating life – _his_ life anyway. Whatever the reason, he hadn't expected it ... to see an aspect of friendship reflected in the painting. Equally represented was the conflict ... the potential for friendships to be broken. Maybe that was his own interpretation fuelled by his state of mind and recent events ... it hardly mattered why Evan was seeing it that way. Just that he was ... and it hurt because sometimes you didn't get a choice. Sometimes it was outside forces that split friends apart and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

He'd only been at the museum for an hour but Lorne couldn't stay there. Looking at anything else would be a waste of time when he wasn't open to appreciating it. Leaving the Hermitage he wandered the streets of St. Petersburg for a few hours before returning to his hotel ... or more specifically the bar downstairs.

It wasn't his usual method for handling things but that day Lorne was thinking he could really do with a drink ... or two.

oOo

"_Evan_?" the incredulous voice behind him had him spinning unsteadily in his seat.

"Lainee!" he tried very hard not to slur his sister's name but didn't quite pull it off. He swayed forward, catching himself before he fell off his seat, struggling to get his sluggish brain working properly. Something wasn't right ... wasn't Elaine supposed to be back home in the US? "What'r you doing here?" he asked, openly confused.

"Looking for you," Elaine replied, "and not a moment too soon from the looks of you. What were you _thinking_, drinking like this by yourself in a strange country!?"

"Didn't have anyone else to drink with," Evan pointed out logically.

"Are you done?" Elaine was clearly restraining herself from saying more ... even in his inebriated state Evan could see that.

"I don't know ... am I still awake?" he joked, semi seriously.

"You're done," Elaine said firmly, grabbing his arm and attempting to pull him up from his chair. Throwing the bartender an apologetic look as Evan staggered before righting himself by leaning heavily against her, she asked "does he owe anything?"

"All paid up," the man replied in heavily accented English.

"Thank you," Elaine turned to look at her brother, sighing heavily. "Come on then," she dragged one of his arms around her shoulders, holding on to his hand as she wrapped her other arm around his waist. "Let's get you home."

"Don't know where that is anymore," Evan muttered, thankfully mostly carrying his own weight as his sister guided him out the door and across to the lifts.

"What room are you in?" she asked when the lift arrived. Taking the key he held out wordlessly, Elaine looked at the number and then pressed for the right floor. She tried not to let her concern show but this was so unlike her brother that it left her feeling unsteady herself and not sure how best to proceed.

Never more thankful that Evan was only a few inches taller than her, Elaine half dragged him from the lift on the right floor and down the corridor to his room. If he'd been any taller, given his muscular build, she'd have had to call for help from one of the locals, not something either of them would have been happy with.

"Here we go," she said, manoeuvring him inside and closing the door thankfully behind them. She watched as Evan staggered to the bed and dropped down, stretching out on his back with a low moan, hands over his eyes. "You okay?" she moved closer, watching him carefully.

"Lainee," Evan ignored her question, turning his head to look at her. Dressed in casual, fashionable clothes – cargo pants, collared shirt over a pretty floral pattered t-shirt, comfortable shoes - she looked bright and fresh despite what would have been a long flight over from Los Angeles. Evan blinked, narrowing his eyes against the light still streaming in from outside. "What are you doing here?"

"Mom was worried," Elaine shrugged, "so I volunteered to come over and check on you."

"I told you I was okay," he sat up, elbows on his knees as he held his head in his hands.

"Well forgive me if I'm less than convinced!" Elaine shot back. Grabbing a chair from the small table she put it beside the bed, sitting down across from him. "I can't remember the last time I saw you like this."

"The Apostles were a big disappointment so I decided to have a drink," Evan dismissed, unwilling to admit to the specifics.

"Right – so this has nothing to do with John then," she said quietly. The words had an immediate impact on her brother. She could see his gaze sharpen even as his expression closed down, walls slamming up defensively.

"Don't," he said just as quietly, suddenly seeming a lot less drunk than he had a few minutes before.

"No – you don't get to do that this time Evan," Elaine leaned forward and grabbed his hands, drawing his eyes to her. "You need to talk about this before it eats you up from the inside."

"I'm handling it," Evan insisted.

"You call this handling it?!" she scoffed. "You've abandoned a job you've loved for years without a word to any of your friends or family, and now you're getting drunk in strange bars half way around the world! That doesn't sound like handling it to me."

"Yeah, well it's a work in progress," he looked away, eyes fixed on the floor.

"Talk to me ... please," Elaine begged. "Drew was visibly cut up about the whole thing and he wasn't even there! You were."

"It's not a pretty story Elaine," Evan pinned her with an intent gaze.

"I can handle it," she promised, squeezing his hands encouragingly.

He drew in a deep breath, watching her carefully for a moment as if testing her to see if that was true. And then he began speaking.

"You know Aviano got absorbed into NATO's allied tactical force ... us and a few other countries including Canada. John arrived at the Vicenza base maybe a month after I did – straight from Bagotville." He paused for a moment, smiling slightly. "Man we had some fun during our off time ... John's all business when it matters but he knew how to kick back and get the both of us into trouble with the locals."

"The local ladies you mean?" Elaine commented teasingly.

"It was _all_ him," Evan shot back with a grin that died away abruptly as he returned to the story. "Anyway, we'd settled into a kind of routine ... there were plenty of regular missions but it was all pretty standard protect and guard stuff. We were there to encourage both sides to keep the peace, not enforce it. Mostly that was covering the route for supply trucks transporting supplies outside the city, along with making our presence blatantly known. It should have been zero risk ... or close to it. But ...," he trailed off, shaking his head.

"But something went wrong," his sister encouraged him to continue after he'd been silent for a while.

"Yeah, you could say that," Evan confirmed grimly. "John flew out with a co-pilot on board one morning to provide protection services ... the supply trucks got there fine but he didn't return to base. We couldn't raise him on the radio. There was no distress call, nothing on radar. It was like he just disappeared. So we flew search and rescue missions to locate him ... doesn't work well in an F-18 but the Canadians called in a few favours, got us a light plane that was perfect. A week of SAR without finding anything and they were starting to talk about giving it up and declaring them MIA. I begged our commanding officer to let me go out when I was off duty ... got close to being insubordinate before he finally agreed. We'd been searching along the road the truck had taken, branching out from there ... only John hadn't flown that route on the way back," Evan swallowed hard. "I can just hear him telling his co pilot to live a little, shake off the cobwebs with a little 'joy' flying on the way back. If they'd stuck to the route maybe we'd have found them in time. As it was they were out there for almost two weeks, injured with limited supplies in the middle of nowhere. Didn't stand a chance really."

"_You_ found them?" Elaine asked, struggling to keep from crying for her brother as he told the story, his emotions there for her to see reflected in his eyes.

"Yeah," Evan agreed. "It just occurred to me out of the blue one day to have another look at the map ... widen the search to cover what John would have seen as the 'hot' spots geographically speaking. First time up after that I spotted the wreckage. Radioed it in and they sent for a Pave Hawk rescue helicopter. It took just enough time to call one in for me to get back to base. I insisted on going with them." His voice was a monotone now, as though he'd forgotten there was even someone there to listen. "Wouldn't take no for an answer ... told Major Harrison I'd go AWOL and hire my own plane to get there if he didn't approve me going. He was less than impressed but he knew John and I were friends so he let me go."

Evan fell silent, eyes focussed internally. "Friends," he finally said bitterly. "Some friend I turned out to be! All I had to do was _think_! Think about the John I professed to know and I'd have realised sooner that he wouldn't have followed the flight path on the way back." He shook his head, shot a glance at Elaine and then fixed his eyes firmly on the floor as he finished the story.

"We found them in a small cave about a mile from the crash site. Total systems failure ... one in a million. They'd both managed to eject before the plane crashed but Lieutenant Blake had been badly injured. John too but somehow he carried Logan for miles until he found them shelter. He fixed himself and the Lieutenant up as best he could and then he sat back and waited for me to find him. He waited through Logan not making it, through dehydration and the worsening effects of his injuries. He _waited_ until it killed him."

"Why didn't he radio for help?" Elaine asked hesitantly.

"Couldn't," Evan replied. "They had a portable with limited range but it was damaged after they ejected. It was either stick together near the crash site and wait for help or John would have had to leave Logan to go search for help from the locals."

"And he chose to stay with his co pilot," she commented softly.

"I guess," Evan agreed, his tone strangely bland.

Elaine looked at him, eyes narrowed. "And that makes you angry," she said, sure her sudden revelation was accurate.

"He gave up!" Evan said, pulling his hands away as he got up abruptly. He swayed for a moment, steadying himself and then moved to stand before the window. The stark daylight brightness when he'd expected night time was disorientating for a moment. "He could have gone for help and come back for Blake but instead he sat there and waited and waited – even after Logan died he didn't' get off his ass and find help for himself!"

"Maybe he couldn't," Elaine suggested. "Maybe he knew Logan wasn't going to make it and he couldn't bring himself to let him die out there all alone. Or maybe he was just confused – you said he was injured too. Maybe he just wasn't with it enough to work out how to save himself."

"We'll never know," Evan pointed out.

"No we won't," she agreed. "So maybe instead of judging him so harshly you could decide to assume if he could he would have saved himself _and_ Lieutenant Blake."

"It's my fault he's dead," he kept his back to his sister as he forced the words out, the view of the city distorted through the blurring of his vision. Pressing hands to his eyes in the hopes of forcing his emotions back where they belonged he didn't hear Elaine approaching until she wrapped her arms around him from behind.

"It's not," she insisted. "It's not anyone's fault Evan. It was an accident ... a horrible, tragic accident. John wouldn't want you to blame yourself."

"He'd tell me to get over myself," Evan sniffed as he chuckled, knowing it was true.

"So get over yourself," Elaine suggested.

"I'm trying," he acknowledged, patting her arms before breaking away. Looking down at her he smiled as genuinely as he could manage. "This isn't a pity trip or me trying to avoid having to deal with losing a friend."

"Then what is it?"

"I felt ... lost," he admitted. "After I got back from the funeral. I just couldn't settle ... couldn't bury it like every other time someone I knew was killed in the line of duty. Sure, some of that's because John wasn't just some guy I knew vaguely. It's the first time I lost someone close to me since ...," he trailed off again, frowning.

"Since Dad," Elaine finished.

"Yeah," Evan agreed. "Since Dad. And I couldn't stop thinking about that either. If every time something like this happens the past comes back to slam me then maybe ...," he took a deep breath before finishing it "maybe I'm not cut out to be doing what I'm doing."

Elaine's reaction had him rearing back in surprise. She didn't argue with him or ask him to explain it to her. Instead she laughed, for real, amusement taking over her whole body.

"Maybe you could fill me in on the joke," he suggested sarcastically when she continued to laugh without explanation.

"Oh Evan," Elaine patted his shoulder fondly. "You were _born_ to do what you're doing. The flying and being in command and the whole military thing. Everybody knows it ... except you apparently."

"O-kay," he nodded uncertainly, wincing at the headache that was beginning to pound behind his eyes. Maybe he shouldn't have been quite so enthusiastic in his attempts to drink away his troubled mood.

"Headache?" Elaine asked in concern, watching him clutching his forehead with a wince.

"Yeah," he admitted.

"Serves you right," she said unsympathetically.

"I can always count on you to keep me firmly in my place, can't I?" he complained, sitting back on the bed wearily.

"Get up ... go brush your teeth and get ready for bed," Elaine said with a smile, the firm maternal tone she'd learnt from their Mom coming out clearly.

Evan just did what she said, tired and frankly still drunk enough to welcome someone else taking charge for a change.

Coming back out of the bathroom a few minutes later he meekly submitted as she urged him to get into bed and then went as far as tucking him in as though he were five instead of almost twenty nine.

"Sleep," she said, smoothing a hand through his hair.

"What're you gonna do?" he finally thought to ask.

"The couch looks pretty comfortable," Elaine said lightly. Leaning down, she kissed his cheek, ruffled his hair and then moved away.

Evan lay there listening to her movements as she grabbed blankets and a pillow from the wardrobe and made up a makeshift bed on the couch. She turned off the lights and settled down, the silence comforting rather than oppressive.

"Thanks Lainee," Evan said into the darkness.

"You're welcome," she replied, smiling.

Evan smiled too, closing his eyes and letting sleep take him.

oOo

"When are you heading home?" Evan asked his sister the next morning, the two sharing breakfast in the hotel's restaurant.

"I thought I'd hang around for a while," Elaine said lightly. "If that's okay with you?"

"Its fine," he said just as lightly, holding in a smile. "I'll have to send you back to school at the end of summer break though ... or Mom will have my head."

"You might have to call her," his sister carefully looked away, buttering a slice of toast with studied nonchalance.

"Elaine," Evan's tone was stern. "You did tell her you were coming over here didn't you?"

"Not exactly," Elaine admitted.

"I thought you said she was worried and you volunteered to come check on me!" Evan glared at her accusingly.

"She _is_ worried so I ... volunteered myself without input from her," she shrugged. "I'm here now. And let's face it, if one of us should be touring Europe admiring art it should be me. I'm the one studying it!"

"Fine," Evan sighed, rubbing a hand behind his neck while he looked at her. "But _you're_ calling Mom."

Elaine nodded, neither of them pointing out what they both knew, that Evan wasn't ready to talk to their mother just yet.

oOo

The trip took on an entirely different feel now he had company. Elaine brought youth and enthusiasm and innocence to everything and it coloured Evan's view too. They were only three years apart in age but sometimes that felt like a lot more ... the weight of experience and knowledge adding years to the difference between them. Elaine was still starting out ... finally admitting that art was what she wanted after a few years of trying to make something else of her original degree. In the end she'd decided to return to college and was studying for a master's degree with the view to getting a curators job in a gallery somewhere.

The day after Elaine arrived they returned to the Hermitage and El Greco's Apostles.

"What do you see today?" Elaine asked lightly.

"Two guys who were very different but knew how to get along," Evan said after considering the painting for a few moments. "Friends."

"Friends," Elaine agreed. She let the silence ride for a few minutes before speaking again. "Did you know that El Greco wasn't the painter's real name? It just means 'The Greek', because he was and –"

"Yes," Evan interrupted, trying not to laugh at her disgruntled expression. "His real name was Domenikos Theotokopoulos . Did _you_ know that this place has 1786 windows?"

"Yes ... no ... you know that's hardly about the art Evan," Elaine discounted his knowledge loftily.

"Right," he did laugh then.

"Okay, did you know that Los Angeles is the sister city to St Petersburg," Elaine tried again.

"Yes – but I can pretend I didn't if it'll make you feel better," Evan said, grabbing her hand and leading her on to the next masterpiece.

**Authors Note:**

El Greco's Apostles has been added to my website page for this story ... the usual deal, go here:

http:// www. shaviva. com/ grandtourpictures. htm

Copy and paste into your browser address bar, take out the space after the forward slashes and dots. Or just go to my profile page here and click on the direct link.


	4. The Potato Eaters

**Chapter 4: The Potato Eaters**

_Location: The Netherlands  
Key Date: Tuesday 20 th July, 1999_

From Russia Evan and Elaine travelled to Denmark and from there to the Netherlands. Two weeks in St. Petersburg spent almost entirely in or around the Hermitage, followed by three days in Copenhagen visiting Statens Museum for Kunst saw them almost two thirds of the way through July and into the heart of summer in Europe.

As travelling companions, the two worked well together. Most of that was down to Elaine who understood her older brother well enough to know when to give him space and when to push him to talk about what was going on in that stubborn head of his. They hadn't talked more about what had happened to John or Evan's part in it but Elaine could see a change in him. He seemed more settled within himself, although there were still plenty of times when she could see he was thinking about the friend he'd lost. She couldn't say for sure but it seemed that now Evan was thinking as much about when John had been alive as he was about how he'd died. Of course she knew it wasn't as simple as that ... Evan often took responsibility to a whole new level and her being there, getting him to talk about it, wasn't going to just switch that off. It was a start though, and one it seemed he'd desperately needed, even if she couldn't help him with the rest of his recovery.

Their only point of contention had been before setting off from St. Petersburg to Copenhagen. Elaine had wanted to fly, not keen to spend 7 hours on a train to Helsinki and then more than 20 hours travelling from there to Copenhagen. Even travelling on the overnight train it was still a long journey.

"If you're in a hurry to get there, don't let me stop you," Evan returned, effectively cutting off any means for talking him around.

"I want to stay with _you_," Elaine almost stamped her foot in annoyance.

"Well I'm taking the train," he crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for the next argument.

"You know ... _flyboy_ ... I'm a little surprised you're not out there trying to hire your own plane," Elaine said sarcastically.

"Don't call me that," Evan shot back.

That was when she realised there was more to his desire to take the long way than just wanting to annoy her. He seemed almost angry and that just wasn't like her brother. "Okay, fine," she made a production out of giving in.

"Good," he relaxed immediately, putting an arm around her and urging her along. "Now go pack ... we're leaving tonight."

"Yes Sir," she muttered snidely.

When they'd been in Copenhagen for a couple of days and Evan began talking about the train trip from there to Amsterdam, Elaine wisely said nothing.

oOo

Twelve hours after starting out Evan and Elaine stepped from the train at Amsterdam Centraal on another warm and sunny day.

"This is nice," Elaine said, smiling across at her brother as they walked from the station in the direction of their next Gallery destination.

"Yeah," Evan glanced up from his map. "Let's go to the Van Gogh Museum straight up ... we can find a place to stay along the way."

Nodding, Elaine kept pace with him as they walked down Stationplein. "So what's on the must see list here?" she asked curiously.

"Everything," he said with a chuckle. "But the Potato Eaters is at the top."

"Did you know ...," Elaine looked at him and then stopped.

"Go on," Evan encouraged.

"Okay ... did you know that his patron was his younger brother Theo?" she finished. "Because of that, because of all the letters Vincent wrote to Theo we know what he was trying to do with many of his paintings, maybe more so than any other artist."

"Unlike El Greco," he grinned teasingly. "Some people still think _his_ paintings were influenced by drugs and a severe stigmatism."

"Exactly!" Elaine laughed. She was going to say more until they turned a corner and she saw a large building across the street with orange and white awnings sitting behind a large fountain. The signage proclaimed it the American Hotel. "Ooh! Evan – let's stay there!" she grabbed his hand and pulled him forward.

"Looks a little expensive," he commented, letting himself be drawn across the road and around the corner to the main entrance. It was an impressive facade housing an equally impressive interior in the Art Nouveau style. Nodding to a group of tourists watching their procession with amused smiled he followed his sister until they arrived at the front desk. "Okay," he couldn't bring himself to crush the look of excitement from her face. "But only for a couple of days."

"Thank you!" Elaine hugged his arm, almost bouncing in her eagerness.

"My sister is very keen to stay here so I hope you've got rooms available," Evan told the desk clerk.

"Of course Sir," the woman responded with a friendly smile.

A few minutes later they were being shown to a suite, two rooms and a living space, up market and impressively decored. Watching as Elaine bounced enthusiatically from one thing to the next Evan decided the expense had been worth it.

oOo

Lorne had a true appreciation for art ... both the creation and the viewing of it. But he'd never been completely captivated – carried away for the real world – by a painting ... until he saw The Potato Eaters for the first time.

It was a simple image ... five figures at a table sitting down to a meal of potatoes and what looked like coffee but was actually a brew made from chicory. Peasants, with coarse features, low foreheads and thick lips, dressed in drab attire ... everything about them proclaiming their lot in life. Van Gogh had set out deliberately to create his first masterpiece with the picture ... a study of peasants, not to malign them but to show that they lived in harmony with their unspoiled, natural environment ... the beginning of representing his views about art and society in synchrony.

As an intended masterpiece of the time it had fallen well short, never being exhibited at The Salon as Vincent had intended. Its prominence and importance in the continuing development of modern art had only occurred after the artist's death.

Evan sat on the bench in front of the painting for hours, not aware of the passage of time. As he continued to consider the image his eyes were drawn to the woman on the right, looking at the man next to her. He was focussed on the female figure across the table, unaware of her regard. The expression on her face ... the _longing_ in her eyes ... had Evan consumed with the whys. Why was she looking at the man while he looked elsewhere? Was he her husband, her brother, or perhaps a guest she hoped to win affection from? What was it she wanted from him? Approval, love, thanks for the meal she'd toiled in the fields and in their meagre house to provide for him?

The images were based on real models – they'd lived in 1885 when the painting had been created much as the painting portrayed. Had Van Gogh imagined that air of contentment or was that a true reflection of the time? The idea that contentment could be found under such conditions interested Evan just as much as trying to decide what each of the figures was really thinking.

"Evan?" Elaine's hand on his shoulder drew his attention back to the present.

"Hey," he turned to greet her.

"Have you been here the whole time?" she asked in surprise, the two having separated pretty much as soon as they'd stepped through the museum doors.

"Yeah," he admitted ruefully. "What time is it?"

"Lunch time," she revealed.

"Damn, sorry," Evan got up quickly, surprised he'd been there for so long. "I meant to come find you an hour ago."

"It's okay," Elaine smiled. "I'm glad this one lived up to expectations."

"And then some," he replied, turning to look again at the painting before following her from the room.

"Don't worry Honey, you can come back and see it again tomorrow," she said comfortingly, laughing when he looked at her pointedly. "I'm hungry ... what's for lunch?"

"I don't think they're serving smart asses today," he shot back.

"Sorry," Elaine grinned. "The Potato Eaters is clearly worthy of the notice of the great Evan Lorne ... we should all worship it much as we do you."

"Laugh it up Lainee," he replied, nodding to the security guard at the door as they exited the main building. Off to the right construction was almost complete on a second building, the new Exhibition wing that would open later in the year. "Let's see if we can find somewhere that serves potatoes ... since I know how much you love them."

"Okay – you win," she stopped and bowed to him. They both knew she hated potatoes in any form.

"You can have what you want ... as long as you agree to come and see the painting with me another day ... with an open mind," he proposed.

"Deal," she grinned, wrapping a hand around his upper arm and encouraging him to get moving again.

oOo

"Happy Birthday!" Evan cracked open an eye three days later to see his sister standing beside his bed, hands clutching a small, gift wrapped package.

"What?" he frowned in confusion.

"It's the 22nd of July silly," Elaine said in exasperation. "The day we've celebrated your arrival into the world for the past 29 years."

"Oh ... that," he muttered less than enthusiastically.

"Get up birthday scrooge," she said insistently.

"This is really why you came over here isn't it?" he complained, rolling over and burying his head in his pillow. "To torture me."

"Of course," Elaine said sarcastically. "I flew more than 6000 _miles_ just to make sure you couldn't skip out of celebrating your birthday. Because that's just the kind of sister I am." She waited to see if he was going to move but he gave every appearance of going back to sleep. "Evan ... please?" she put 25 years of sisterly wheedling into the tone she knew he couldn't resist.

"Fine," his voice came back muffled through the pillow. "I'll get up ... just give me a minute here okay?"

"A minute," she said firmly before leaving him alone.

"Happy 29th old man," he muttered to himself, rolling over again to stare up at the ceiling. Twenty Nine! God, where had _that_ time gone? Sighing, Evan sat up, knowing he was in for a difficult day. He'd have to play along with whatever Elaine had planned and try to look happy about it ... and he'd have to call his Mom.

oOo

"Happy Birthday," Elaine said for the second time that morning, pushing the small rectangular package across the table. They'd had a light breakfast in the hotel restaurant and were finishing up with coffee.

"What is it?" Evan looked at the package curiously.

"That would be the point of opening it hotshot," she pointed out sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Right," he grinned, picked up the gift and removing the paper quickly. Lifting the lid, he looked down at the contents for a moment before meeting her expectant eyes. "A mobile phone?" he asked pointedly.

"You don't have one," she pointed out, "which is really inconvenient when I want to talk to you. Sometimes you don't call back for days!"

"You do realise a birthday present is supposed to be something the recipient, not the giver, wants, right?" he pinned her with a sharp look.

"Get with the times old man," Elaine teased, not taking offence that he was less than impressed with her efforts. Taking the box from him she removed the slim black phone and pressed the on button. "I programmed in a few numbers for you," she said, pressing more buttons and then handing the phone to him, "including one you need to call today."

Evan glanced at the number – home back in LA – and nodded wordlessly. Switching off the phone he shoved it in his back pocket. "Later," he promised. Finishing up his coffee, he got up and moved to Elaine's side of the table. "Thanks Sis," he said, leaning down and pressing a kiss into her hair.

"Hey, don't go anywhere," she grabbed his hand, holding him back. "I've got plans for you!"

"I was afraid of that," Evan quipped, nor really minding despite his protests.

"If you're a good boy I'll let you go back to see your favourite painting later," Elaine said piously.

"I'm 29 Sis," he pointed out. "Don't you think I've left being a boy behind by now?"

"Men remain boys their entire lives," she said knowingly. "It's a well established fact."

"Right," he laughed. "Well, come on then. Don't sit there day dreaming. Let's get this birthday crap over with."

"You're such a charmer Evan. I'm surprised you don't have a horde of women chasing after you," Elaine said, letting him pull her up from her chair.

"Who says I don't?" he teased. "Maybe that's the real reason I had to leave Italy."

"In your dreams," Elaine laughed, happy to see her brother behaving more like the man she knew.

oOo

"Evan James Lorne!" his Mother's voice over the phone had him wincing in dismay. He'd let Elaine take him on a tour of the non art related sights of Amsterdam and then to lunch. She'd promised him their next stop would be the Van Gogh museum – once he'd called home – and then left him at the table alone with a look that said he better do it right there and then.

"That's the name you gave me ... 29 years ago today, remember?" he tried to steer her away from being angry he hadn't called before.

"Yes ... Happy Birthday dear," Grace Lorne returned. "But don't think that's going to get you off the hook young man," she added sternly.

"Ah ... no Ma'am," he sighed, feeling the silence she was deliberately letting build, knowing eventually he'd feel compelled to fill it. "I'm sorry I haven't called since I left Vicenza," he finally caved and gave her what she wanted.

"And so you should be," Grace replied. "Almost two months Evan! Do you know how concerned I've been ... after Elaine told me about your friend, and no word from you?"

"I did write to you Mom," Evan tried to excuse himself.

"'Don't be worried'!" she quoted him pointedly. "Who starts a letter like that? It's like telling someone not to look down!"

"I ah ... okay, I deserved that," he acknowledged. "I just ... I wasn't ready to talk about it."

There was silence from the other end of the line before his Mom spoke again. "And now?" she asked carefully.

"Now ... I don't know," Evan picked at the label of his water bottle as he considered the question. "It's better Mom but ...," he trailed of awkwardly.

"But you don't want to talk about it over the phone," she concluded. "That's fine Evan. Elaine's there looking after you so I suppose I'll have to be content with that."

"More like I'm looking after her," Evan chuckled.

"Well it'll give you something to do dear," Grace retorted. "Keep you out of mischief."

"I guess ... although I really didn't need any help with that," he replied.

"What are you doing for your birthday?" his Mom asked, her tone hopeful.

"Assuming hiding is out of the question I guess I'll just continue to let Elaine drag me wherever she's planning on dragging me," Evan replied. "If I'm good she'll let me go back to the Museum next – her words."

Grace laughed. "Be strong," she encouraged. Again there was silence, this time comfortable. "Is it what you expected?" she asked.

"Seeing the paintings in person?" he queried. "More than. Especially here ... kinda took me by surprise. You know me Mom – I'm not exactly the day dreaming type but I sat in front of The Potato Eaters and I swear hours went by without me even noticing."

"That's wonderful," Grace smiled fondly. "Does this mean I'll be seeing something from you in the future?"

"Maybe," Evan knew she was talking about his painting, the fact that he'd given it up as he'd gotten further and further into his military career something they didn't talk about. He knew she was disappointed though, that she'd hoped he'd give up his lifelong love affair with the sky in favour of a career in art. "I've been sketching since Florence ... nothing elaborate but ...," he trailed off, giving a shrug she couldn't see.

"It's a start," she said, her tone approving.

"You should plan some time off in the future," Evan suggested. "Come over and see it all for yourself."

"Maybe one day," Grace dismissed, changing the subject. "I'll let you go now – this call must be costing you a fortune. Tell Elaine to behave herself ... and don't wait so long before calling me again."

"I won't," Evan responded to the last part of her statement, knowing from experience that there was no point in protesting or pointing out that he could afford to talk to her for longer.

"Happy Birthday baby," Grace said softly. "I love you."

"Thanks Mom," he smiled. "Love you back."

He lowered the phone and stared at the small screen for a moment before slowly switching it off and returning it to his pocket.

"Okay?" Elaine appeared out of nowhere.

"Yeah," he nodded, getting up and joining her. "Mom said to behave yourself."

"What?" I _always_ behave myself," Elaine protested.

"Right, that's why you came here without telling her first," Evan pointed out the flaw in her statement.

"If you want to go back to the museum you better watch your step buddy," she warned, mock glaring at him.

"Shutting up now," he grinned teasingly.

Elaine narrowed her eyes, waiting for him to say something else. When he remained silent she nodded happily. "Okay, the Van Gogh Museum it is. I'll be timing you this time."

oOo

The Potato Eaters was as compelling the second time as it had been the first. Evan had expected the impact to be lessened now that he'd seen it once and was relieved to find he'd been wrong.

After promising to meet back with his sister in an hour he took the same seat he'd taken three days prior, settling in to let his thoughts wander.

"Sir, if you could come with us?"

Startled, Evan looked around to see two officials standing to either side of him, their manner and expressions announcing them as Museum security.

"Is there a problem?" he asked, getting up.

"Please come with us," one of the men repeated, motioning for Evan to walk towards the doorway.

"Okay," he agreed, frowning in confusion. "Elaine – my sister – is she okay?"

"As far as we know Sir. Mr De Jong wishes to have a word with you," the same man explained.

"And who might Mr De Jong be?" Evan asked, starting to get a little annoyed at their cryptic behaviour.

"Museum curator," the other man clarified, leading Lorne through a door with Dutch signage that presumably said staff only and down a long corridor. Knocking at a door, he opened it and then motioned for Evan to precede him.

When he walked into the room Lorne immediately stiffened, narrowing his eyes as he looked from the suited guy behind the large desk to the only other occupant, his two escorts staying outside in the corridor after closing the door behind him.

It was nothing obvious – the guy wasn't wearing a uniform or a badge but Evan knew as soon as he'd seen him that he was police, or some kind of equivalent.

"Evan Lorne," he introduced himself, stepping forward confidently and holding out his hand to the curator.

"Janssen De Jong," he replied, eyes shooting to the other man.

"We already know who you are Mr Lorne," the man's tone was just bordering on drawling sarcasm and Lorne knew he was in trouble.

"That's ... nice," Evan said, turning to meet his eyes. "Maybe you could return the favour by introducing yourself and telling me what you want from me."

"Rutger Smit ... _Inspecteur_ Rutger Smit," the man replied in slightly accented English. "Korps Landelijke Politiediensten – you would say the National Police Services Agency."

"What can I do for you Inspecteur?" Lorne asked, still puzzled.

"Tell us where the painting is Mr Lorne," Smit said abruptly.

"_What_ painting?" Evan looked from one man to the other, not missing the glance they exchanged.

"The one you stole two days ago," Smit replied.

**Authors Note:**

Just wanted to acknowedge the audio drama Impressions here - there's a great bit in there where Lorne talks about seeing The Potato Eaters. It's the reason I included that painting in this story. As for his birth date, I took the one listed on his character page on the Stargate wiki - no idea why it was set as July 22 but I decided to go with that rather than use Kavan's birth date.

The latest picture had been added to the Grand Tour Pictures page on my website - link on my profile page if you don't already have it from the other three chapters. Go have a look - it's an amazing piece of art.


	5. The Yellow House

**Chapter 5: The Yellow House**

_Location: The Netherlands  
Key Date: Thursday, 22nd July, 1999_

Laughing probably wasn't the wisest thing Lorne could have done but the absurdity of being accused of stealing a painting had the honest reaction out of him before he could contain it.

"You're joking right?" he said. Looking at Smit and seeing the other man's very straight face, his amusement abruptly dropped away. "Okay – _not_ joking."

"No," Janssen De Jong took over, looking to the police inspector and getting a nod of approval to explain. "Some time on Friday evening one of our Van Gogh canvasses was stolen from the Museum."

"And you think it was _me_?" Lorne was honestly incredulous. "If I stole something why would I come back here?

"Perhaps to divert suspicion," Smit shrugged. "You spent most of the morning here on Thursday and returned again in the afternoon of the same day," he catalogued impersonally.

"Me and about a thousand other people," Evan pointed out logically.

"Yes but unlike them, you arrived here from Copenhagen where another work was recently stolen," Smit revealed. "And were you not in St. Petersburg before that?"

"Something was stolen from there too?" Lorne asked worriedly.

"You know very well it was Mr Lorne," Smit shot back.

"Ah ... _no_ ... I _don't_," Evan returned. "Listen, I can see why this might all seem neat and tidy from your point of view but you've got the wrong guy. I didn't steal anything."

"I'm sure all thieves say the same thing on being caught," Smit noted mockingly.

"Since I'm not a thief that hardly applies to me!" Evan retorted irritably. He took a moment to calm himself before continuing. "If you can tell me when these paintings were stolen I'm sure I can provide an alibi for where I was at the time."

"That might be a problem," De Jong said uncomfortably. "We don't know exactly when our painting was stolen."

"Someone ripped a canvas off the wall and you didn't notice?" Evan's brow rose sharply. "How is that possible?"

"You do a good job of professing ignorance Mr Lorne," Smit laughed harshly, "but we have evidence that places you at the scene here in Amsterdam. I am sure in time more evidence will be found linking you to the other crimes."

Evan realised the Dutch inspector wasn't open to considering that he didn't have his man. "Do I need a lawyer here?" he asked mildly.

"You will need to come to the station for further questioning Mr Lorne," Smit advised. "We will allow you to call for legal representation at that time."

"Fine," Lorne scowled, more angry than worried at the turn of events. "My sister – Elaine Lorne – is somewhere in the museum. I need to let her know where I'm going."

"I will have someone locate her and inform her of the situation," De Jong said, not unkindly.

"Thank you," Evan nodded to the curator gratefully before turning to Smit again. "Okay – let's get this over with," he suggested, moving to the door.

oOo

At Lijnbaansgracht 219 police station, ironically only a block away from the American Hotel, Lorne was led towards the rear of the building. Sitting in a small, non descript room he noted the large 'mirror' on his side that fairly screamed that people where watching from the other side ... well, if police shows on TV were at all accurate.

"Mr Lorne," Smit returned to the room with another man in tow. Where Smit was short and stocky with classic Dutch features this man was tall, slim and cultured, dark haired and pale skinned, looking very at home in the expensive suit he was wearing.

"Anton Lefèvre, National Central Bureau, Interpol," he introduced himself in a pleasant voice as he took a seat across from Evan, placing a thick file on the table in front of him. "Thank you for joining us Mr Lorne."

"I didn't realise I had a choice," Evan replied a little sarcastically, trying not to worry that Interpol was involved. From his understanding they were all about supporting any organisation involved in preventing international crime ... which had him thinking he was about to have a very bad day.

"There is always a choice," Lefèvre replied, his dark eyes blank as he observed Lorne emotionlessly. "Of course, some choices present a more difficult road than others. Which path _you_ choose remains to be seen."

"Since I haven't done anything wrong I'm gonna go with the truth and getting to the bottom of this," Evan's tone was purposeful and determined.

"I rather expected you'd say that," Lefèvre noted, appearing amused. "Perhaps you could start by telling us about the missing Van Gogh?"

"From what I understand you don't even know when it went missing," Evan pointed out. "I've only been here 3 days – how do you know it wasn't stolen before I arrived?"

"We have our reasons," the Interpol agent replied. "The painting Mr Lorne ... tell us about the painting."

"How about you just pretend for a minute that you've got the wrong guy," Evan suggested blandly, "and tell me what exactly went missing?"

"Very well," Lefèvre sighed, exchanging a glance with Smit who'd been silent so far. "Inspectuer?"

"The Yellow House," Smit revealed.

"I know of it," Lorne said thoughtfully, recalling vaguely the sandy yellow tones and blue sky of Van Gogh's depiction of the French house he'd lived in for a time in the late 1880's. "I don't remember seeing it at the Museum though."

"You wouldn't have," Smit returned. "It was not on display."

"Ah," Evan nodded, some of the prior comments finally making sense. "You don't know exactly when it was stolen because it was taken from storage, right?"

"Correct," Lefèvre smiled. "As were the other works stolen most recently from Statens Museum in Copenhagen, the Hermitage in St. Petersburg, the National Gallery in Budapest, and the Uffizi Gallery in Florence. That is an interesting point of commonality to note, but even more so is the fact that you personally visited each museum before the works went missing and you were still at each location when each robbery most likely took place."

"From where I'm sitting that just makes me the worst case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time ever," Evan retorted. Inside though he'd felt his stomach drop when the Uffizi Gallery had been included in the tally of sites that had been hit. Even he could see that was a worrying chain of coincidences at best.

"Or perhaps it makes you our primary suspect," Anton Lefèvre countered.

"The inspector here mentioned evidence linking me to this latest robbery," Lorne ignored that last part. "Do I get to see this evidence?"

"Ah ... yes," Lefèvre smiled in a way that had Evan feeling very worried even though he knew himself to be innocent. Opening the file he removed a single sheet of paper enclosed in a protective plastic envelope. Wordlessly he placed it on the table, rotating it so that Evan could see it.

"Fuck," the curse slipped out as Lorne looked at the evidence in disbelief. It was a sketch he'd done of the Van Gogh Museum the afternoon of their first day in the city. It showed the main building and the wing still under construction. He hadn't signed that specific sketch but clearly the one he'd done after it had been signed because the faint outline had been brought out very simply. The "_E Lorne_" he'd jokingly scrawled on a sketch for Elaine was easily readable. "Okay, clearly I can't deny that I drew this but I'd have to be the dumbest thief on the planet to leave it at the scene of the crime!"

"It was not found at the scene," Smit admitted. "We received an anonymous tip to check the storage rooms at the museum. This sketch, clearly showing the entrance compromised by the construction of the exhibition wing, was offered with the tip as evidence."

"So you've got nothing linking to me directly to the crime at all," Evan pointed out, eyes still on the drawing. "For all you know the _real_ thief sent that to put you on the wrong track." He'd carried his sketch book around for most of the past two months, completing a number of very similar sketches at every Museum or Gallery he'd been to. Maybe this particular drawing had fallen from the book while he'd been sketching – he did tend to get _very_ focussed when he was drawing. And maybe he was just deluding himself that something more sinister wasn't at work here.

"We have enough to hold you for further questioning Mr Lorne," Lefèvre replied, shifting his chair back and standing. "I suggest you think about telling us the truth ... because there _is_ some connection between you and these crimes. I _know_ it." With that he turned and left the room.

"This way," Smit motioned for Evan to get up as well. Another silent journey through the station and Lorne found himself being shown into a holding cell.

"This is just great," he muttered, looking around distastefully and thanking his very tarnished lucky stars that at least he was alone for the time being. Smit said nothing, obviously intending to just leave Evan there. "Wait ... what about my phone call?" Lorne demanded.

"Your sister is waiting at reception," Smit admitted. "You may speak to her."

Evan watched the man walk away, standing at the bars of his new accommodation before beginning to pace around the small enclosure.

"Evan!" Elaine was led into the area, moving straight to the bars and reaching for his hands.

"Elaine," Evan squeezed her hands before letting her go, meeting her eyes intently. "I need you to go to the American Embassy, tell them my situation and get them to recommend a lawyer here in the city."

"They can't hold you like this!" Elaine was upset and trying not to show it. Being called to the curator's office at the Museum had been worrying enough but finding out that her brother was being held for questioning over the theft of a famous Van Gogh painting had sent fear chasing around her system.

"They can ... for a few more hours yet," Evan corrected. "It's okay Lainee ... I'm fine. We just need to show them I'm not responsible as quickly as possible so I can get out of here."

"I can't believe this is happening," Elaine exclaimed, close to tears, "and on your birthday too!"

"I don't think it would have gone down any better any other day Sis," Evan pointed out gently. "Now I need you to focus okay ... go and talk to the embassy folks. Can you do that for me?"

"Of course," Elaine pulled herself together, nodding. "I'll be back," she promised.

"I'm not going anywhere," Evan noted ruefully, watching her hurry away.

oOo

The embassy sent someone to the station to talk to Lorne, an American official who reassured Evan that they were looking into his case and instructed him to cooperate fully with the Dutch police.

Elaine returned as well, looking calmer and reiterating that she was making sure he got the help he needed.

"You'll be out of here in no time," she promised at the end of her second allowed visit.

No time turned out to be a serious under estimate. Evan ended up being a guest of Lijnbaansgracht 219 overnight. He spent the hours of darkness interchanging between pacing the tiny room and sitting with his back against the wall glaring at the bars.

Twelve hours after he'd passed through them the doors opened to reveal the last person he would have expected to see.

Captain Andrew Rider ... Canadian air force pilot, fellow ex F-18 rookie and one of Evan's closest friends.

"_Drew_?" Evan jumped up from the floor, standing back from the cell door as the police woman accompanying his friend unlocked and opened it.

"Ready to blow this joint?" Drew asked with a grin. Out of uniform, dressed in a similar style to Lorne himself, Drew still managed to look commanding.

"What do _you_ think?" Evan shot back, moving quickly through the door, following the official with Drew walking silently beside him.

"Captain Lorne," Inspector Smit greeted Evan, his expression open and respectful where before it had been only suspicious. "Our apologies for detaining you in this manner."

"You finally worked out I'm _not_ the dumbest thief on the planet?" Evan quipped sarcastically.

"The evidence against you is circumstantial at best," Smit admitted. "We would not have been able to hold you in any case, and given your military record, brought to our attention by Captain Rider, we are willing to recount your presence at the time of the theft as merely a coincidence."

"Lucky me," Lorne sighed before relenting. "I appreciate that Inspector. Maybe in your place I'd have been a little suspicious too."

"Before you leave, if you would complete a statement and sign it," Smit requested, "it would put an end to this unfortunate incident."

Agreeing, Evan moved to follow him across the room.

"I'll see you outside buddy," Drew promised.

Evan nodded, sitting down to dictate events from his point of view. It didn't take long ... ten minutes later he was done and finishing a read through to make sure it was accurate before signing it.

"_Captain_?" Evan looked up from signing his statement to see Anton Lefèvre standing silently a few paces away, his expression questioning.

"Air force," Lorne said simply.

"You should have mentioned that," Lefèvre remonstrated.

"Why, would it have made a difference?" Evan shot back, handing over his completed paperwork and then getting up to head for the exit.

"Yes," the Interpol agent admitted, falling into step beside him.

"What – you think servicemen can't be thieves as well?" Lorne was being sarcastic, again probably not smart but after the last 24 hours he wasn't in the best of moods.

"Perhaps, but it is unlikely," Lefèvre shrugged philosophically.

"Well then next time I'm arrested for a crime I didn't commit I'll be sure to bring it up right at the onset." They'd arrived at the front door and Evan gave the Frenchman a considering look. "You never told me what was stolen from the other galleries."

"The Birth of Venus, Fishing Boats, Portrait of a Lady in Blue, and Christ as the Suffering Redeemer," Anton reeled off the names in quick succession. "In order of when they were taken."

"_Monet's_ Fishing Boats?" Evan asked in surprise.

"Yes," Lefèvre confirmed.

"I wanted to see it," Evan commented. "They were readying it for shipment to New York."

"Another common theme between the robberies," Anton nodded. "There is little doubt each is connected."

"Well, whoever they are they've got good taste in art," Lorne noted.

"Or they know what will fetch a high price," the Interpol officer suggested.

"There is that too," Evan agreed. "I won't say it's been a pleasure," he concluded, pushing open the door and leaving the station without another word.

If he'd looked back he would have seen Lefèvre watching his retreat with a thoughtful and somewhat calculating expression.

oOo

"I'm a little surprised you didn't tell them you were military as soon as you worked out what was going on," Drew commented. He'd checked into the hotel as soon as they'd returned from the station and given Evan his 'space' for the remainder of the day. Now it was early evening - the three of them were sitting at a secluded table in the hotel restaurant and Drew had decided if Evan wasn't going to volunteer anything about his current mood he'd have to force it out of him. "I was all set to do some serious arguing but it only took them accessing your military record to do a complete turnaround. You could have done that the first hour you were there."

"Yeah, well I forgot," Evan dismissed.

"You ... forgot?" Drew shot Elaine a puzzled look.

"He's pretending to be _Mr_ Evan Lorne right now," Elaine commented with a faint smile.

"What, because of what happened to John?" Drew didn't pull his punches.

"I'm tired," Evan got up abruptly, not wanting to have an open discussion on his state of mind. "Drew – thanks for coming. I'll see you both in the morning." Leaning down, Evan gave his sister a quick kiss goodnight before leaving her with his friend.

Elaine sat watching her brother walk away before turning a worried gaze to Drew.

"You were right," Drew acknowledged, reaching across the table to cover her hand with his. "He's got 'mid life crisis' written all over him."

"You'll talk to him?" Elaine pleaded.

"Tomorrow," Drew promised.

oOo

Drew was all set to live up to that promise until Evan side tracked him, waking him up with a phone call early the next morning.

"I need to talk to you," Evan said "I'm down in the lobby," and then hung up before Drew could reply.

Frowning, Drew looked at the clock. "06:00! This better be good," he muttered, jumping out of bed.

Five minutes later he was showered, dressed and on his way downstairs. Spotting his friend pacing around near the doors, he headed straight over.

"Evan," he said as the other man turned to greet him.

"Drew," Lorne greeted him with a smile and a slap on the shoulder. "Let's walk."

"Okay," Drew fell into step beside him. "Could you maybe be a little less mysterious though? Because seriously, you're starting to freak me out."

"Sorry," Evan said lightly. "After I left last night - sorry about that by the way - I started thinking," he paused for a moment, "no, actually I was already thinking during that long night in jail. Anyway, something occurred to me," he turned a serious gaze to his friend. "It's not a fluke they suspected me Drew ... I was set up."

"Okay ... explain it to me," Drew invited. Evan had expected a measure of disbelief rather than quiet acceptance and it threw him for a moment.

"Ah ... sure," he paused to collect his thoughts, leading them around the corner from the hotel to the nearest canal bridge. "Let's just talk about the Van Gogh first. The Danish police had a tip off that something had been stolen from storage ... it came with a sketch of the outside of the museum. _My_ sketch. The one I completed only three days before."

"How'd they get it?" Drew asked, resting his arms on the railing and looking at the water flowing below.

"That _is_ the question isn't it?" Lorne agreed. "It's possible and I don't know how but maybe the sketch fell out of my book somehow and whoever's behind this is an opportunist who took the chance to head the police off in the wrong direction."

"But you don't think that's what happened," Drew concluded.

"No," Evan said simply. "I've been going over it in my head ... the times I didn't have the book with me, all the people who might have seen my work. It's a long list ... _too_ long. I don't exactly lock my sketch book up but I really don't think anyone could have gotten close enough to just pick up that particular sketch - not without some careful planning. Somebody _knew_ I've been sketching the outsides of art galleries. They _knew_ I'm travelling around Europe visiting all the big ones. And they're setting it up to make me seem like the most likely suspect. Right about now I bet they're patting themselves on the back thinking I've been detained and they're off the hook."

"Instead you're the one who's off the hook," Drew pointed out, turning and resting his back against the bridge.

"For now," Evan agreed. "Who knows what 'evidence' they've left for the other crimes that points to me. I could get back to Italy and find myself arrested again."

"So what do you want to do about it?" Drew asked.

"Apart from find them and beat the crap out of them for ruining my holiday?" Lorne smirked, letting his friend know he was joking ... mostly. "I don't know. I don't see what I _can_ do."

"We could turn the tables on the thieves," Drew suggested. "Use them using you against them."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Evan retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'd like to think I'm more observant than the average Joe and I couldn't tell you who to suspect. I've talked to lots of people – at the galleries, on the train, at hotels I stayed at. Never noticed anyone paying me more attention than they should have."

"Yeah, well you've had a lot on your mind," Drew pointed out, getting close to the topic he'd promised Elaine he'd talk to Evan about.

"Maybe," Lorne excused his lack of picking up any real clues reluctantly. He didn't want to go there ... not even for Drew.

"Where were you heading next?" Drew asked.

"The Musée des Beaux-Arts in Belgium," Lorne replied, his French pronunciation perfect. Drew would have picked him up on it if it wasn't, being bilingual in French and English like many of his countrymen.

"Okay, so we go there as planned," Drew proposed. "You do your usual art appreciation gig while I pretend not to know you. That way I can stake you out and see if anyone's paying undue attention to you."

"You're inviting yourself along?" Lorne asked with a frown. "What about work?"

"Turns out you're not the only one who can get an extended leave of absence," Drew said lightly. "I'm good for as long as it takes to sort this out."

"Thank you," Evan said simply.

"You'll owe me one," Drew pointed out with a grin. "And believe me, one day I'll collect."

"Fair enough," Lorne agreed. "Let's head back to the hotel before Elaine wakes up and finds us both gone."

"Are you going to tell her your theory?" Drew asked.

"Ah ... I guess I'll have to, unless I can convince her to go home," Evan replied.

"Yeah, good luck with that!" Drew shot back.

**Authors Note:**

So, no new "must see" work for Lorne this chapter. If you're interested in seeing all the stolen works though I've added a page to my website - you can access it from the same link on my profile page. Thanks for reading!


	6. Landscape with the Fall of Icarus

**Chapter 6: Landscape with the Fall of Icarus**

_Location: Belgium  
Key Date: Sunday, 25th July, 1999_

"No way," Elaine said firmly when Evan broached the subject with her later that morning. He'd told her that Amsterdam had lost all interest for him and that he was moving on the Belgium. And then he'd casually suggested that she might want to head home.

"You don't need to look after me Lainee," he pointed out gently. "Drew's gonna stick around for a while – I won't be alone."

"No," Elaine said again, folding her arms stubbornly across her chest in a gesture that reminded Evan too much of himself.

"Why not?" he persisted.

"Because something's up with that whole robbery thing and I'm not leaving you to get arrested again," Elaine retorted. "Whatever plan you and Drew cooked up this morning will have to include me."

"You ...," Evan trailed off, speechless.

"I'm not stupid Evan," Elaine pointed out somewhat smugly. "When two air force pilots go out walking at 6am it's not to hold hands and see the sights!"

"Right," Evan just barely stopped himself from squirming uncomfortably.

"So what's the plan?" Elaine asked, letting him off the hook with grace.

Evan knew there was nothing he'd be able to do to dissuade her. She was a free woman and he couldn't stop her from tagging along even without his approval. Giving in, he filled her in on his theory and the strategy Drew had suggested.

"So we have to pretend we don't know Drew?" Elaine seemed troubled by that. Of all the details she could have questioned, Evan was surprised _that_ was the one she'd targeted.

"Unfortunately yes," he agreed. "It's just for this next leg ... hopefully we won't need to do this for longer than that. Drew will be fine by himself."

"Wait a minute," Elaine frowned. "How do we know they'll follow you to Belgium? Won't they be expecting you to be detained here?"

"Good point," Evan thought for a moment. "Either way it doesn't matter," he finally decided. "If they're watching us then they know the police let me off – for whatever reason. If not then we're out of it in which case we have no choice but to continue as we would have. I'm not letting them chase me out of Europe."

"And we don't know which it will be," she concluded.

"Not yet," Evan agreed. "The safest thing we can do is assume they _are_ watching us. Seeing me free they'll probably assume that sketch wasn't enough to pin a robbery on me. That's what I'd think anyway, and I'd only be more determined that my chosen scapegoat looked even guiltier."

"Meaning more thefts and more evidence pointing to them," Elaine finished.

"Exactly," he shrugged. "It's gonna be tense for a while but I think if nothing happens in Belgium we can probably conclude I'm off the hook. To be honest I'm hoping that _doesn't_ happen."

"Why?" Elaine frowned in confusion.

"Because then we'll never know who was behind this," Evan said simply. "And with whatever evidence they've contrived since they first decided I'd make a good target still out there this could come back and bite me down the track."

"It could," Elaine agreed worriedly. "Okay then ... let's do it."

oOo

After so many long legs in his journey, travelling to Brussels was a welcome change. At just under three hours it was by far the shortest trip Evan had made across Europe so far.

He'd grown fond of train travel ... the steady, continual motion, being able to walk freely from one compartment to another, as well as views of the surrounding countryside he wouldn't have seen otherwise. He didn't think Elaine would be won over anytime soon but then, it was _his_ big adventure not hers so he tried not to feel guilty about that.

This journey was made difficult by the simple fact that Drew was on board too ... Evan had passed him in the corridor once as well as seen him when they were both getting coffee and been forced to pretend the other man was a total stranger. Thank god the journey was such a short one ... Lorne didn't think he'd be able to resist the urge to burst out laughing if he had to put up with Drew's deliberately pompous 'you're too far beneath me to be noticed' expression much longer than that.

At Brussels Station South Evan led his sister from the train, not noticing her wistful glance back as he focussed on his map.

"It's about a half hour walk from here to the Musée des Beaux-Arts," he told her. "Are you okay for that or do you want to find somewhere to rest first?"

"No, let's go straight there," Elaine insisted, shouldering her own small pack easily and grabbing her brother's arm. "So this is us, just acting normal," she commented with a weak chuckle.

"Yeah. If normal ever involves trying to outsmart an art thief we're gold," Evan replied, glancing down at her with a sudden frown. "You sure you're okay with this? It's not too late to go home."

"I'm okay," she said firmly. "Now, since I chose the last hotel I'll let you choose this time. As long as it's somewhere nicer than the one in St. Petersburg."

"Hey - I _liked_ that place," Evan pretended to be insulted.

"And it was perfect for you," Elaine said loftily. "_I_ require something with just a little more ... class."

"Watch it missy," he teased, "or you'll be staying somewhere by yourself." It was an empty threat - they both knew he'd never let her stay anywhere without him, even without the increased tension of chasing an art thief.

"Is Drew following us right now?" Elaine couldn't resist asking the most obvious question any longer.

"He better be," Evan returned. Catching his sister's look of concern he rephrased. "He's pretty good but I spotted him a block back. He's on our tail and travelling nicely so stop worrying."

"I wasn't ...," she trailed off when he looked at her with a raised brow. "Okay, fine, I _was_ worrying."

"He can take care of himself," Evan reminded her.

"I know, but that doesn't mean he should have to," she pointed out.

"True," Evan narrowed his eyes as he wondered for the first time just how close his sister had gotten to Drew since their first meeting. Drew had stopped by to tell her about John personally and Elaine had known how to reach him fast enough to have him on a plane and across two continents within twelve hours. For a moment Evan considered questioning her but then decided it wasn't the time.

They walked in silence for a while, each taking in the feel of a new place. "There it is," Evan pointed across the street to a large building. The main entrance put him in mind of the White House with its multiple columns framing the large door. They crossed the street and walked up the stairs, lining up at the front desk to check their packs as was the usual practice.

As Evan watched the security guard placing his and Elaine's packs in a portable trolley, handing him a small numbered token in exchange, a new possibility occurred to him. Like most museums the Musée des Beaux-Arts didn't allow its visitors to carry anything beyond the usual handbags inside the museum. The procedure there was to attach a number to the bags patrons checked at the desk. If you knew what to watch for you _could_ potentially observe the number assigned to a particular visitor. Make yourself a set of the right tokens and you could claim any bag you wanted, relying on the fact that the volume of bag traffic at the desk was enough for the guards not to recognise that you weren't the person who'd checked a bag in.

Maybe that's how they'd done it – the ones behind the theft of Van Gogh's 'Yellow House'. Thinking back Evan remembered that he'd taken a small bag into the museum in Amsterdam – the afternoon of his first visit. He'd intended to do some sketching and had thrown his sketch book, pencils and a few other items into his bag, checking it at the front desk as usual.

He didn't know for sure but it seemed the most likely way for the thief to have gotten hold of his sketch. Which meant they'd been watching him pretty closely ... a thought that sent both dread and anger running through him. On the plus side, if that had been their method then Drew would have something to observe as he too watched Evan and Elaine closely.

"What's your must see here?" Elaine asked curiously as they moved away from the desk and inside the museum.

"Bruegel's Fall of Icarus," Evan replied distractedly, discretely looking around while trying to look like he didn't have a care in the world.

"What's so special about this one?" she asked, drawing his attention back to her.

"Its reverse ekphrasis," Evan explained as he led them up the stairs and turned right, heading for the Museum of Ancient Art. Rather than just one museum, the Musée des Beaux-Arts was actually comprised of four separate museums, two of which were contained within the main building, the others located further out in the city.

"And that means?" Elaine prompted him. Although she'd studied art in more depth than her brother, her area of interest was Modern Art. 'Art' as a subject was so broad it was impossible for anyone to know it all. If it was painted before the mid 1800's Evan was more likely to know the details than she was.

"Sorry ... rather than verbal text describing a work of art, Bruegel used art to describe literature – Ovid's Metamorphoses in this case," he explained. They walked down a long gallery containing works from the 16th century until he saw it ... "Landscape with the Fall of Icarus", painted sometime around 1558.

"It's the story of Daedalus and his son," Evan said as he looked at the painting closely. "You know it ... or a version of it anyway. Daedalus was an inventor of sorts who got locked up in a tower to protect the secrets he'd learned. To escape he constructed a pair of wings, using wax and string and made a smaller set for his young son, Icarus. He warned Icarus not to fly too close to the sun because the wax would melt but the thrill of flying was too much for the boy. He got too close, the wax melted and he fell into the sea and to his death."

Elaine frowned at the picture for a moment. It was familiar to her but she'd never studied it closely before or considered the story behind it. "So – where's Icarus then?" she asked curiously.

Evan pointed to the tiny figure under the sun, falling to the sea trailing fire.

"But he's hardly visible!" Elaine protested. "Why call it the fall of Icarus when if you didn't know the story you'd never notice him?"

"It's Bruegel's interpretation of the entire story," Evan explained. "Ovid mentions the ploughman, shepherd and fisherman as well – all holding useful implements crucial to their livelihood. Making them central and Icarus barely visible was Bruegel's way of placing greater value on the renewal of nature than he did on Daedalus altering nature artificially by creating mechanical flight in the form of bird wings." Evan paused, glancing down at his sister to see her looking at the painting intently. "_No plough stands still just because a man dies_," he said softly.

When Elaine turned to look at him, he explained. "Bruegel read a lot of biblical literature and often painted to common proverbs. That's the one he was believed to be thinking of when he painted this. The three intent on their work while behind them Icarus fell to his death." He sighed. "Life goes on."

"And that's why it's on your list," Elaine concluded softly, taking his hand and squeezing it comfortingly.

"I guess," Evan admitted.

They both turned to look at the painting, standing silently and just letting the story and what it meant to each of them wash over their minds. Eventually Evan roused himself, nudging Elaine with his elbow.

"You need to go look at your art," he said in a low tone, reluctant and yet purposeful. He didn't want to be separated from his sister, worried that somehow she'd be in danger alone even though it seemed he was the target.

"You're right," Elaine replied. She didn't move though, clinging tightly to his arm now.

"I'll be fine," he reassured her. "I'm not alone ... remember?"

"Be careful," she said before breaking away and heading for the stairs leading back to the Museum of Modern Art.

Evan watched her go before resolutely turning back to Bruegel's Icarus. Now that Elaine had left him he found it difficult to get into the art ... instead he made a play at pretending to behave as he had at the other galleries, all the while wondering which, if any, of the other patrons was the one watching him.

oOo

After a suitable amount of time had gone by Lorne left Ancient Art behind and went searching for his sister. Regrouping in the lobby they claimed their bags and walked unhurriedly from the Museum back the way they'd come.

Half an hour later Evan and Elaine had checked into a simple hotel suite big enough for them and Drew, and were sitting down to talk about their morning when a knock sounded at the door.

"_Drew_," Elaine said, jumping up quickly.

Evan beat her to it, looking out the spy hole before nodding and stepping back to let her open the door.

"Anything?" Evan asked as soon as the other man was inside the suite and the door closed behind him.

"Unless you count an increased knowledge of that Bruegel guy's motivations for painting a farmer no," Drew quipped back. Sitting down, he smiled as Elaine sat beside him before directing his attention back to Evan.

Lorne stood near the window, glancing out at the view of the street below before turning his attention back to his companions. They looked ... close, even though there was a respectable gap between them. Putting his concerns aside, he focussed on the issue at hand. "So either no one's watching me or they're really good at staying hidden ... or they've got another way of tracking me. Either way we're still in the dark here."

"So what do we do now?" Elaine asked, leaning forward and angling herself so she could look at both men.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Evan grinned across at Drew.

"Catch them in the act?" Drew suggested.

"Exactly," Lorne replied. "I'll go back to the museum this afternoon and do the customary sketch before I go back inside. You see if you can source a floor plan for the museum, just enough so we know roughly where they store the works not on display. Then from tomorrow night we stake it out ... if they run true to form they should be hitting the museum within the next couple of days."

"And what about me?" Elaine asked pointedly.

"You go and do ... girl things," Evan replied, hurrying into speech when it looked like she was going to protest. "We can't afford to suddenly start acting differently Elaine," he said seriously. "What would you be doing this afternoon if we were still in the dark about the robberies?"

"Staying with you?" she tried hopefully. He just stood with a raised brow, saying nothing, waiting for her to come to the right conclusion on her own. "Fine," Elaine gave in abruptly. "I'd be checking out the shops and looking up what the best local tourist attractions are."

"Right – so you do that, Drew looks for the plans and I go and sketch," Evan summarised. "Simple." Not waiting for protests he headed for the door, saying over his shoulder "I don't know about you guys but hunting art thieves is hungry business. I'm going downstairs to find some food."

oOo

"So ... how long have you been in love with my sister?" Evan's voice was low in the silence of the car Drew had hired the day before. They'd stuck with the plan and were on their second night of staking out the eastern corner of the Musée des Beaux-Arts, parking in an alleyway across the street out of sight but still with a clear line on the section of the museum where the undisplayed works were kept.

"Since the day I met her I think," Drew didn't try to pretend he didn't know what Evan was talking about.

"You weren't just 'in the area' after John's funeral," Evan stated that fact, his tone still giving no indication of how he felt about the situation.

"No," Drew admitted, squinting in the darkened car in an attempt to see Evan's expression. "I heard about your abrupt departure and I knew she'd be worried ...," he paused for a moment. "And I _needed_ to see her ... needed to talk to her about John."

Evan said nothing, the silence beginning to feel more than a little weighty as Drew wondered what the hell he was thinking. "You're angry," he finally said.

"No," Evan denied. "You're a good man Drew ... I just .... I want more for my sister than to spend her life waiting hopefully for someone who might not be coming home."

"Not everyone ends up like John," Drew returned, just a little exasperated even though he understood what was driving his friend.

"Elaine's already lost a lot in her life Drew," Evan ignored the comment. "I don't want to see her grieving like that again."

"Is that why you broke it off with Steph?" Drew asked intently.

"It wasn't a 'forever' thing," Lorne said dismissively. "We both knew that going in."

"Yeah, except she did the unthinkable and fell in love with you," Drew shot back.

"That was a long time ago now ... and besides, this isn't about me," Evan retorted irritably, not wanting to go there.

"No," Drew argued. "I think this _is_ about you. Why you broke it off with Steph when I'm pretty sure she wasn't the only one in love, why you're having a mid life crisis over what happened to John, and why you don't want me involved with your sister."

"You haven't lost someone you loved so don't sit there like you know what the hell it's like!" Evan returned, his voice echoing harshly in the confines of the car. Calming only slightly he continued. "My Mom was _broken_ after my Dad died ... I remember what she was like before so I _know_ she was never the same after. She lost something ... her spirit ... her nerve ... a piece of herself ... _something_. Now she'll talk about being out there seeing the things she's always dreamed of seeing when we all know she'll never do it." His breathing echoed harshly in the enclosed space as he struggled to calm down. "I won't do that to someone ... and I won't see it done to Elaine." The quiet purposeful tone was like a knife after his passionate outburst.

"You were ten," Drew said gently. "Trying to cope with your own grief as well as all the changes that had to take place. Don't you think that maybe your memory might be flawed ... that's a lot for anyone to handle, let alone someone so young."

"I -,"

The knock on the window startled them, both too absorbed in their conversation to pay enough attention to what was going on outside the vehicle.

Evan looked out and then groaned. "Perfect," he muttered under his breath, winding down the window. "Yes Officer?" he asked the uniformed man standing beside his door.

"Is there a problem here gentlemen?" the officer asked, the implied 'what the hell are you doing here in the middle of the night?' clear but unspoken.

"Ah ... no Sir," Evan shot Drew a quick glance before continuing. "We were just ... admiring the Musée des Beaux-Arts ... it really is a beautiful piece of architecture isn't it, particularly at night." He'd considered for a nanosecond telling the man the truth – that they were attempting to catch a thief – but discounted any chance he'd actually believe them.

Drew swallowed down the urge to laugh, despite the seriousness of the situation. He was glad it was Evan doing the talking though – there was no way he could have said something like that as sincerely as his friend had.

The officer looked at both men for a moment, assessing their open, honest expressions. "Of course," he finally said. "I'll have to ask you to leave now ... loitering in the area is prohibited." He paused again, meeting Evan's eyes sternly. "If I see you around here again there will be several questions I'll be compelled to ask."

Evan nodded, the unspoken message clear. The policeman was suspicious but prepared to give them the benefit of the doubt ... a privilege he'd revoke if they came back. "Thank you Officer," he said respectfully, reaching for the keys and turning on the engine.

"Gentlemen," the officer stepped back to let Evan drive slowly forward, obviously intending to wait until they'd left.

"Well ... that went well," Drew concluded as they exited the alleyway.

Evan said nothing, driving them silently back to the hotel car park. He remained silent until they were getting out of the car. "For the record, I wasn't in love with Steph Riley," he said insistently.

"Only because you wouldn't let yourself go that far," Drew retorted.

"So you're saying it's possible to stop yourself from falling all the way, even if it's the right person?" Evan asked.

"I'm saying ...," Drew stopped, realising where his friend was going. If he said yes then Evan would immediately come back with a request that he stop whatever it was he was doing with Elaine. "Nice try," he complimented. "I never really thought about it before but since you ask maybe I have to conclude that Steph _wasn't_ the right girl for you."

He pushed the button for the lift back to the ground floor, getting in first when the doors opened. They rode the lift silently, Drew not speaking again until they were inside their suite and he was standing outside his room. "Either that or you're more miserable than even I gave you credit for," he finished, leaving Evan standing there staring after him.

**Authors Note:**

The latest picture has been added to my website page ... it's an interesting one, particularly with the link to Daedalus. I hope people are taking the time to look at the art as we go through the story!


	7. The Storm

**Chapter 7: The Storm**

_Location: England  
Key Date: Wednesday, 28th July, 1999_

"This isn't working," Evan said grimly, pacing his hotel room with Elaine and Drew looking on from their places on the couch. It was very early the next morning and they'd congregated in the lounge area to discuss their progress. "We're dealing with professionals here and we're just blindly stumbling around in the dark!"

"What do you suggest then?" Drew asked placatingly.

"The hell if I know," Evan retorted, moving to his favourite spot by the windows. Sighing he turned to look at his companions. "I'm sorry ... this entire situation is beyond frustrating."

"It is," Elaine got up and came over to him, touching his arm lightly. "Are we still convinced this _is_ all a set up? Maybe it really was a coincidence," Elaine suggested hopefully.

"Twice is a coincidence" Evan replied grimly. "Five times is a carefully constructed master plan."

"Evan's right," Drew agreed. "There's no way this can be anything other than a set up."

"But we're not going to find them like this," Evan concluded, leading Elaine back to the couch and sitting down across from her. "The only other thing I can think of is leaving immediately ... if they're not expecting that we might be able to lose them."

"I thought you said you weren't going to let them chase you out of Europe?" Elaine accused.

"I'm not," Evan returned, smiling suddenly at her irritation on his behalf. "But there are a lot of art galleries I haven't been to ... if they don't see me leaving the chances of them finding me at one of them go down drastically."

"And then what?" Elaine persisted. "You just forget you were set up?"

"Of course not, but I'm not willing to be somebody's pawn here," Evan shot back. "We need some breathing space ... _without_ anyone looking over our shoulders. Then we can work out a smarter plan."

"Okay – where to then?" Drew asked casually, his question making it clear he had every intention of tagging along.

"I was going to go to Germany next," Evan said. "That'd be the predictable thing to do. But we're close to England so I reckon we go there instead."

"Sounds good to me – I always wanted to see Big Ben," Drew quipped.

"And the London Bridge," Elaine smiled at Drew, appreciating his levity.

"Okay, England it is," Evan decided, getting up. "Pack your stuff guys ... we're catching the next train out of here."

oOo

Another short journey was between the three travellers and their next destination. This time there was no pretence that Drew was a stranger ... half an hour after deciding to leave Brussels they were on the 7:30am train, tired enough that conversation was minimal as each appeared lost in self reflection.

Lorne hadn't forgotten Drew's cutting words from the night before ... but he was ignoring them, focussing instead on his annoyance with their current situation. As he looked out the window at the concrete of the Channel Tunnel passing by at high speed he found himself wondering what had happened at the Musée des Beaux-Arts after their abrupt exit. Had the theives struck again or had the presence of the police put them off? That was certainly a question he wanted an answer to but the biggest question by far, the one that had been eating at him since Amsterdam, was why him? What had painted the big target on his back that said 'art thief stooge here'? Lorne promised himself grimly that as soon as he caught up with the culprits - no room for doubt that he _wouldn't_ - he'd be sure to ask them.

Sighing, Evan turned his attention from the window back to his companions. He'd noticed the looks exchanged between Drew and his sister as they got ever closer to English soil ... and chose to ignore them too. He might not want the kind of future it seemed his sister was heading for but there was nothing he could do to stop _her_ from wanting to at least allow it as a possibility. And in the end, if the two did end up together he couldn't withhold his approval. His friendship with Andrew Rider was important to him, sure, but his relationship with his sister was much more than that – it was _crucial_. Whatever the future held Evan knew he'd find a way to live with it.

Three hours after embarking Drew led them from the train at St. Pancras International station in London. It was still Europe but the bustling city had a different vibe to the other places Evan had visited recently. Edgier ... more hurried ... with the feel of a place hiding a large population and a colourful history of secrets.

"Let's find somewhere to stay," Evan proposed once they were out in the street.

"Breaking with tradition?" Elaine asked lightly.

"Tradition?" Drew queried, looking between the siblings quizzically.

"Evan always goes straight from the train to the gallery housing the work that drew him there," Elaine explained. "This time it'd be something from Turner's watercolours." She looked at her brother with a faint smile. "Am I right?"

"I didn't realise I'd gotten so predictable," Evan muttered, spotting a taxi stand and heading straight for it. Drew and Elaine followed, Elaine clearly still waiting for her answer. "Yes you're right," Evan admitted, "although to be accurate I always head in the direction of the gallery I want to see – most of the time I find somewhere to stay before I actually go there."

"I don't mind walking if you want to do that here," Elaine suggested.

"Are you sure?" Evan looked at his sister, concerned at how tired she appeared. "It's probably at least an hour's walk from here and none of us got much sleep last night."

"Then we find something about half way," she smiled. Breaking out of the line waiting for a taxi she started walking. "Are you coming?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Yes," Evan caught up, putting a hand on each of her shoulders and pulling her to a stop. Gently swinging her around, he grinned. "But it's this way," he pointed in the opposite direction to the one she'd taken.

"Oh," Elaine laughed. "Fine, so following a map isn't exactly my strong suit."

"You'll do," Evan wrapped his arm around her shoulder, getting them moving again. When he was level with where Drew stood waiting he let her go, taking the lead and trusting the other man to stick with Elaine. Maybe it was subtle but he wasn't quite ready to declare his approval yet.

It might have seemed risky to just pick a place to stay off the cuff without a reservation but Evan had found there were enough small hotels in every city to find something appropriate. Given that they were trying to be unpredictable that approach might even have worked in their favour - although it hadn't stopped Evan ending up in the situation he was now in. Relying on a random selection of accomodation worked just as well in London as it had elsewhere and Lorne gratefully checked in at the Crown Regent Hotel, again choosing a suite big enough for the three of them to stay together. He was tired after only a few hours sleep the prior night but he couldn't settle, pacing around the living area restlessly as his sister looked on.

"Go," she urged him abruptly.

"What?" Evan frowned.

"Go see the picture you wanted to come here for," Elaine expanded. "I'm just going to go lie down in my room anyway. There's nothing for you to do here ... Drew can go with you."

"To be honest I'd rather stay here and kick back for a while," Drew countered. "I know you guys are big on the whole art appreciation thing but I don't know enough about it to be good company – especially when I'm tired."

"Too refined for you buddy?" Evan teased. Drew just rolled his eyes, not rising to the bait. "Okay ... I'll go," Evan decided. "You guys get some rest ... in _separate_ rooms."

"Evan!" Elaine blushed as his meaning became clear. Drew had mentioned during a brief moment when they'd been alone that her brother knew about their burgeoning relationship but she hadn't seen anything to indicate how Evan felt about it until then. Not that his comment said anything about how he felt ... Elaine would probably have to confront him head on to get him to admit to anything but she knew her brother well enough to make a good guess on what he'd be thinking.

Evan shrugged unrepentantly, exchanging a glance with Drew that had the two understanding each other. Drew would protect his sister ... it was as simple as that. Leaving them alone, Lorne walked down the sidewalk, following the sequence of directions he'd memorised on the way to London.

The Tate Britain was the national gallery of British art, housing amongst other things the most extensive collection of watercolours painted by Joseph Mallord William Turner in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. Turner was equally well known for his oils but Evan was more interested in his watercolour landscapes, and in particular one titled The Storm.

From what he'd read, the artist had experienced the storm and subsequent shipwreck depicted in the painting first hand, having himself lashed to the mast for four hours in a deluge he'd felt some fear of surviving, because he wanted to show the viewer what such a scene was really like. That level of realism had rewards ... Turner was acknowledged as unrivalled when it came to the depiction of the natural forces of ocean, storm and rain. Where others struggled to make their seas more than lifeless contrivances of the real thing, Turner's ocean had movement ... the rhythm and weight of the waves, the disorderly deluge of rain falling ... all rendered with startling brilliance. The power of nature itself had captivated Turner and forced him into a new means of expression in his efforts to capture it as art.

Walking along Millbank, adjacent to the Thames, Lorne passed Westminster Bridge and the Victoria Tower Gardens before he caught sight of the Gallery in the distance. Outwardly its facade was not dissimilar to the Musée des Beaux-Arts ... a square entrance jutting out from the main building with large columns supporting its rooftop.

This time he'd brought nothing with him, just his wallet and the mobile phone Elaine had given him that he'd grown accustomed to stashing in his jacket pocket. Taking a floor plan from the main desk he opened it and scanned it quickly before heading to the second floor and the specially built Clore Gallery that housed the entire Turner Collection.

He found The Storm after searching for some time, standing back a few steps to consider the painting he'd only seen in books. It was another one of those times when seeing it for real made you realise how little pictures in a book conveyed. The waves leapt from the paper, their height and fury easily felt, as was the predicament of the ship caught up in the urgency of the storm. It was a tense scene and Evan could feel that tension rising as his eyes tracked the various aspects of the composition.

In a way he could identify with that little ship, caught up in a stormy sea with no real control over direction or where he might end up. Someone else's hand held the reigns ... be it the forces of nature as in the picture, or the unseen menace of an enemy who'd chosen him for no apparent reason.

Given the circumstances he hadn't been sure he'd even be able to appreciate what he was seeing but thankfully that proved not to be the case. As he left The Storm and continued on through the thousands of Turner watercolours displayed at the Tate, Evan found himself forgetting his woes and losing himself in another time and place.

That was until he caught sight of someone familiar out of the corner of his eye and snapped back to reality abruptly. Keeping himself in check Lorne pretended to continue his tour of the collection, spending another hour walking through each room before deciding that would be enough to not arouse suspicion. Walking down the stairs back to the ground floor Evan made a play of checking his watch before leaving the gallery and heading back to his hotel.

He led his shadow all the way there, only able to catch sight of him here and there because he knew he was being followed. Inside the hotel lobby he moved quickly to the windows, standing out of sight as he watched the figure stop outside the hotel, wait for a minute or so and then turn back the way they'd come.

Waiting a few moments more, Evan exited the lobby again, turning the tables and becoming the shadow himself. He followed the man across the street and around the corner, walking far enough back that he almost lost him a couple of times. Finally they arrived at another hotel where the man walked in, Evan on his heels. Inside the hotel, similar in appearance and decor to the one Evan was staying at, Lorne stopped, scanning the room looking for his target.

_There ..._ taking a seat at the bar.

Evan silently made his way over, sitting down on the next stool. The man paid him no notice until Evan spoke. "You're a long way from home Mr Lefèvre," Lorne said conversationally. "Here to pick up a Turner reproduction?"

"Mr ... my apologies ... _Captain_ Lorne," Anton recovered quickly from the surprise of having his target make him.

"Why are you following me?" Evan got to the point up front.

"For the same reason I had them bring you in for questioning in Amsterdam," Anton replied, no hint of guilt apparent.

"Oh you've gotta be kidding me!" Evan regarded the Interpol agent with an incredulous look. "They _let_ me go – surely that tells you I've got nothing to do with these thefts."

"I did not say you were responsible Captain," Lefèvre pointed out. "In fact I believe you to be innocent of any wrong doing. But the fact remains that you _are_ connected to these crimes. I have ... struggled to apprehend these particular thieves for a number of years. Your involvement provides the best lead in some time ... there was no other choice but for me to keep a close eye on your movements."

"You're using me to get to them," Evan concluded angrily. "What gives you the right to do that?"

"Come now _Captain_," Anton actually smiled. "I've had the opportunity since our last meeting to study your background. You are no happier that the real culprits remain free than I am. Perhaps now that you are aware of my presence we can come to an arrangement."

"What kind of arrangement?" Evan demanded suspiciously.

"One that will advantage both of us," the other man replied. "I made sure it was known before I left Belgium that you were headed to London. We can use that."

"You _what_?" Evan could feel the anger starting to rise inside as he glared at the Frenchman. "You put my sister and my friend back into the mix with no regard for any of us!"

"_Ten years_ Captain," Lefèvre countered grimly. "Ten years I have chased them, through numerous calculated sprees spanning months, unable to get close enough to prove their guilt."

"You _know_ who's behind all of this?" Anger was sidetracked as Evan realised what the other man was saying.

"I believe so," Anton admitted. "But never is there proof to link them to the scenes ... despite my best efforts I have been unable to convince my superiors to act in this manner based on my word alone."

"Hence your need to catch them in the act," Evan shook his head.

"Yes," Anton nodded. "With any luck the thieves will take the opportunity to implicate you further ... I will tag them much as they have tagged you and finally get the proof I need to be vindicated."

"We already tried that," Evan admitted. "Staked out the museum in Brussels. They never showed."

"They did," Lefèvre countered, "and stole Gossaert's Venus and Cupid from the museum only hours after you and your friend were kindly asked to leave."

"Damn it!" Evan slammed a palm down on the bar in frustration. That was _that_ question answered!

"My thoughts exactly," Anton agreed, raising his glass and taking a large mouthful of what looked like scotch.

"Okay," Evan said abruptly. "I'll help you ... but we keep my sister well clear of this. And you tell me everything. I want to know about the previous thefts and I want to see pictures of these people you think are behind the whole thing."

"I will send to the Paris office for my files," Anton promised. "In the mean time, please, go about your business as you would normally. I will do the rest."

"That doesn't exactly inspire me with confidence Mr Lefèvre," Evan said sarcastically.

"Anton, please," the Interpol officer replied.

"Right ... Anton," Evan sighed. "Okay, tell me what you can recall without your files. How many paintings are we talking about here?"

Settling back Lorne listened to the catalogue of regular criminal activity spanning years and covering many works he'd even heard of. Whatever he'd gotten him into it was bigger and a lot more serious than he'd imagined. Spying the time and realising suddenly that Elaine and Drew were probably concerned about him, Evan interrupted.

"Listen, I have to get back to the hotel before they start worrying about me," he said. "How can I get in touch with you?"

Anton pulled out a business card with 'Interpol' and his name inscribed in small text. On the back was a hand written mobile phone number. "This will reach me, day or night," he instructed.

"Okay," Evan took the card and tucked it in his jacket pocket. "So ... act normally."

"Yes," Anton smiled. "And call me if anything unusual happens."

"These days that's a little hard to distinguish," Evan said sharply. Getting up he met the other man's eyes. "Leave a message at the hotel when you get those pictures," he said before turning and walking away.

oOo

Elaine watched her brother leave for the gallery, turning worried eyes to Drew as the door closed softly behind him. "He didn't need this," she said simply.

"No," Drew agreed, moving forward to take her hands. Drawing her into his arms he hugged her close, resting his chin on her head when she settled in with a sigh.

It still surprised Elaine how easily they'd gone from the occasional phone call shared since their first meeting to the easy familiarity they had now. Although maybe it shouldn't ... the few days Drew had spent in LA when he'd come to tell her about John had been a crash course for both of them on each other, on what they could be together ... on the attraction that existed between them and where it might lead. Drew might not have been in Europe when John's plane had gone down, he hadn't been part of the search or recovery teams like her brother had, but that didn't mean he wasn't equally troubled by the loss of a friend. It was something they'd all have to deal with - the six friends who'd started fighter pilot training together with John - and Elaine was hopeful that she'd helped Drew with his own personal journey there.

Like she wanted to help Evan. Sadly, her brother gave a whole new meaning to the word 'stubborn' - he wasn't making it easy for her. After a few moments she laughed suddenly, pulling away to look up at Drew. "I can't believe he actually said that about separate rooms."

"He just wants to protect you," Drew said lightly, his attitude making it clear he didn't have a problem with that.

"I know," Elaine sighed, turning and moving to sit on the couch. "He hasn't worked out yet that protecting me isn't his job anymore."

"He loves you," Drew sat down beside her. "And I'm pretty sure being a big brother isn't a job you ever get done with."

"Maybe," Elaine frowned for a moment before continuing. "Evan's always been too big on responsibility - on thinking that it's down to him if things don't go according to plan. Maybe it was always in him to be that way but when Dad died it only got worse." She looked at Drew a little apologetically. "The reasons for him doing this trip are tragic but in a way it almost makes me hopeful - he actually took a step back and did something for himself that wasn't about being responsible or what he thinks everyone expects him to be."

"As long as he doesn't take it too far," Drew reminded her of her concerns.

"Exactly," she said with a smile. "So ... what _did_ Evan say when he asked about us?"

"Ah ...," Drew shifted uncomfortably. Just because he'd admitted to her brother that his feelings went as deep as they could go didn't mean he was ready to tell her the same. "He just wanted to know what was going on between us."

"And what did you tell him?" Elaine looked at him expectantly, her eyes like dark, mysterious pools drawing him in.

"What would you want me to tell him?" he turned it back on her teasingly, his eyes intent as he raised a hand to cup the side of her face.

"That you're hot for me," she laughed when Drew's brows rose in surprise. "Seriously, it's not Evan's concern. Unless you feel like you need his approval."

"No," Drew pulled her closer and kissed her, gentle and slow. Pulling away, he added "and I think we've talked about Evan more than enough for the time being." Moving in he kissed her again, this time more purposeful ... the beginning of discovering each other on a more intimate level.

Elaine felt that same connection she thought she'd only imagined the first time they'd met ... the one that only seemed stronger the more time she spent wth Drew. It pulled her in, had her forgetting everything but him and what he was making her feel. There was a lot of ground between 'separate rooms' and nothing at all and Drew seemed intent on exploring that to the fullest extent, with Elaine a more than willing accomplice.

**Authors Note:**

New pictures added to my website pages - The Storm for this chapter as well as the stolen work from Belgium (to the stolen works page - the link on my profile page will get you one click away from there). Also thanks to MackenziesMomma for the request on writing alone time for Drew and Elaine - I added the last scene because once I'd read the suggestion of course I couldn't stop thinking about it! Not sure if its what you were imagining but there you go. *grins* Lastly, I made up the Crown Regent Hotel - if there is one it's entirely coincidental. Hope everyone is still enjoying this story.


	8. Ophelia

**Chapter 8: Ophelia**

_Location: England  
Key Date: Monday, 26__th__ July, 1999_

"They hit the Musée des Beaux-Arts," Evan told Drew as soon as he walked in the door of their suite and saw his friend sitting on the couch with Elaine.

"Evan!" his sister rushed forward, relieved to see him returned.

"Where've you been?" Drew demanded accusingly. It had been hours since Lorne had left ... time enough for he and Elaine to emerge from their romantic haze and begin worrying about him.

"The Tate gallery ... where I ran into my new friend Anton Lefèvre of Interpol," Evan revealed. "Turns out he's using me too ... to get to the thieves who've apparently been doing this kind of thing for _ten_ years." Evan pulled put his wallet and phone and dropped them on a side table impatiently. "That's not the best part though," he said, facing the others with his arms folded across his chest. "That would be Lefèvre following us to Brussels and then here, making sure to tell everyone along the way where we are."

"They know we're in London," Drew concluded grimly.

"In all likelihood," Evan confirmed. "Lefèvre's trying our plan ... following me to see if he can spot the bad guys. The only good news is that _he_ has suspects ... he just needs proof that they're guilty."

"What are you going to do?" Elaine asked worriedly.

"Play along," Evan shrugged. "Not much else I _can_ do since he's gonna follow me regardless. It's not like he needs my approval."

"We could just go home," Elaine suggested meekly.

"We could," Evan agreed mildly, "and I'd be feeling a lot better if you guys did just that."

"But you're staying," Drew knew his friend too well to think otherwise.

"I have to," Lorne insisted. "I can't let them get away with this ... and them using me is apparently the best lead Interpol has had for a while."

"Then we're staying too," Elaine declared.

"Yeah, I kind of thought you'd say that," Evan ran a hand through his hair in agitation. "And I suppose telling you it'll be easier if I don't have to worry about you isn't gonna sway you?"

"We're not leaving you here to deal with this alone," Elaine insisted, Evan not missing this time her instinctive use of 'we' instead of 'I'. As an announcement of where his sister's relationship with Drew stood, that was a pretty big red flag.

"_Not your call_," Evan reminded himself internally. Still, whether his sister stayed or not _should_ be, given the trouble was squarely fixed on him. "Can't you talk to her?" he asked Drew pointedly.

"Me?" Drew's eyebrows rose in surprise. "What do you think _I_ can do?"

"If you're gonna get involved with my sister then you need to learn how to persuade her to do what's best for her," Evan didn't look at Elaine as he said that, sure that angry steam would be shooting from her ears.

"I'm smart enough to not even get near that one buddy," Drew said on a harsh laugh. "And she's mature enough to make her own decisions."

"_And_ talk on her own behalf," Elaine's voice was icy as she pinned her brother with an angry glare. "I'm staying and that's that." Not waiting for a response she turned and stalked from the room.

"You sure you want to take that on," Evan quipped, watching her leave.

"Oh yeah," Drew grinned. "You giving me your approval?"

"_She_ has," Evan replied, the implications clear. His sister had apparently made her choice and there was nothing Evan could do but support that.

"Thanks buddy," Drew clapped a hand to Lorne's shoulder exuberantly.

"You hurt her, I hunt you down and make you regret it for the rest of your life," Evan promised, pinning his friend with an intense gaze.

"Right," Drew frowned, trying to decide if he was serious or not.

Evan's gaze never wavered. He was serious.

oOo

Anton didn't contact Lorne about the suspect pictures or the files he was waiting for from Paris, but he did request a meeting with Evan and Drew two days after they'd arrived in London.

"I believe they will hit the museum tonight," he began when Evan and Drew sat down with him at a local coffee shop. "With your assistance we can get the evidence needed and bring them to justice."

"Another stake out?" Drew queried.

"Having studied their usual patterns as well as observing their brief periods of surveillance on Captain Lorne these past two days I am convinced I can apprehend them tonight ... as long as we cover all available escape routes."

"What about your own people?" Evan asked, expecting that Interpol would send the other man backup as he closed in on the culprits.

"Interpol is chiefly a coordinating organisaton," Anton reminded them with a casual shrug. "At best we would tap into the resources of local law enforcement. I believe we would be better off keeping this as simple as possible ... you and Captain Rider are already fully briefed on the situation and have the skills required."

Lorne nodded, frowning as he considered the situation. Exchanging glances with Drew and seeing the other man's silent nod of acceptance, Evan looked back at Lefèvre. "Okay, we'll help," he agreed.

"Excellent," Anton said, visibly relieved. "Let me tell you what we will do," he began, unfolding a map of the Tate and surrounding areas.

oOo

Elaine had been less than impressed at being left out of the evening's activities but finally agreed to stay close to the hotel while Evan and Drew did their thing. Evan had the mobile she'd gifted him and promised he'd call her if anything happened.

They'd been at their posts for a couple of hours, shivering in the cold night air, when the silent vibration let him know that someone was calling him.

Evan raised the binoculars Anton had provided, just making out Drew hiding in the trees covering the other side of the building. Pulling out the phone he glanced at the screen, not recognising the number displayed.

"Hello?" he answered the phone in a low tone, keeping his eyes trained on the gallery a short distance away.

"Captain Lorne?" the brisk voice on the other end enquired.

"Yes, speaking," he replied, straightening instinctively at the businesslike tone.

"Captain, my name is Andrea Knight," the woman explained. "I'm a nurse at St. Thomas' Hospital."

"_My sister_," Evan felt as though his insides were freezing over as he listened to her reply.

"Elaine was involved in an accident outside the Crown Regent Hotel a short while ago," Nurse Knight continued. "There is no need to be unduly concerned Captain Lorne. She's been admitted to the hospital but is in a stable condition. I found your name and number amongst her possessions and took the liberty of calling you."

"What happened?" Evan instinctively went into 'command' mode, focussing on the details and what he needed to do next while pushing his personal emotions to the background. He _was_ worried ... scared for Elaine, but none of that came out in his voice.

"We won't know the specific details until she regains consciousness," the nurse replied. "The police were called to the scene and will want to question her as well."

"I'll be there as soon as possible," Evan promised, already more than half way to Drew's location. "Can you give me directions to the hospital from The Tate Gallery?"

Concentrating on her response, he memorised her instructions and then hung up.

"Drew, we have to leave," Lorne got his friends attention as soon as he was close enough, urging him to get moving.

"What's wrong?" Drew asked worriedly.

"Elaine's been admitted to a hospital across the river," Evan revealed. "I don't know the details, just that she's in a stable condition."

"Call Lefèvre," Drew practically ordered, his expression grim as he too tamped down on the other emotions he'd naturally be feeling.

Nodding, Evan dialled the Frenchman's number and quickly apprised him of the situation. Despite the Interpol agent's protests Lorne insisted he and Drew were leaving and hung up. "Let's go," he said, heading for Westminster Bridge.

oOo

There was nothing worse to Evan's mind than sitting in a dimly lit hospital room in the middle of the night waiting for a loved one to wake up. As he sat in a chair beside his sister's bed his thoughts moved from overwhelming concern that she really would be all right as the doctors had assured him to boiling anger.

When he and Drew had arrived at the hospital Evan had spoken to the doctors and then the police. Witnesses had reported a dark car swerving across the road directly towards Elaine. She'd been lucky that a pedestrian walking just behind her had noticed its approach and pushed her clear just in time. Elaine had hit the ground hard, knocking herself unconscious. With a bruised shoulder and hip along with what was hopefully just a mild concussion she'd come away from the accident one very lucky lady.

Lorne wasn't surprised to find out that the car had attempted to hit and then ran, none of those who's seen the accident able to give police a full licence plate number.

"I'm going to try Lefèvre again," Evan said in a low tone, putting a hand over his sisters as he looked across the bed to where Drew was keeping his own silent vigil.

And that was something else that had hit Evan between the eyes. He wasn't the only man in his sister's life anymore. She'd had boyfriends, sure, but none she'd loved with any degree of maturity. Growing up without a father's presence had resulted in Evan's role as big brother taking on an added dimension. He was the one Elaine came to for things she didn't want their Mom to know, he was the one who'd taught her to drive ... and he was the one to be there when things hadn't gone as she'd hoped and she needed someone to 'make it right' again.

Looking across at his friend, seeing the expression on his face ... remembering a similar expression of concern on Elaine's face ... was the beginning of the end of all of that. And while he _was_ happy for his sister, at the same time he was a little sad for himself. Not that he'd ever admit it.

Pulling out the card the Interpol agent had given him, Evan walked outside the hospital, standing on the curb in front of the main entrance as he dialled.

Like the other three times he'd tried since they'd arrived at St Thomas's Lefèvre didn't answer and that had the alarm bells ringing loudly. Something wasn't right and Evan was getting quietly angrier the longer the situation continued without answers.

oOo

"I was a diversion, wasn't I?" Elaine's voice was quiet and purposeful. She'd woken in the early hours of the morning to the relief of both Drew and Evan. Now, a few hours later, Evan had finally convinced Drew to go stretch his legs, the other man picking up that Evan wanted to talk to Elaine alone.

"I think so," Evan didn't bother trying to downplay what had happened. "Pretty sure we're both thinking the same thing on why - and it worked too. I don't know what the hell happened at the Tate after Drew and I left ... _because_ we left. Anton's not picking up the phone either which means we're back to being in the dark. That's why I'm sending you home as soon as they release you."

"But -," Elaine frowned, wincing as she shifted to sit up straighter.

"There's that too," Evan looked pointedly at the hand she was using to support her bruised side. "Even if I were willing to take the risk you're in no condition to be sitting on trains and walking around museums right now. As it is Mom's gonna have my head for not looking after you better."

"It wasn't your fault," Elaine dismissed.

"It _was_," Evan insisted. "What the hell was I thinking getting involved in staking out The Tate like that? It was beyond stupid. No," he held up a hand when she made to protest. "I've been too damned passive since Amsterdam ... hell, since before that."

"This isn't exactly something you can plan for Evan," Elaine retorted.

"No, but I'm done being anybody's pawn," he promised grimly.

"You've got something in mind?" she asked worriedly.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," Evan replied. "The only thing you have to do is focus on getting home and getting yourself better."

Elaine sighed, looking as his measured expression and knowing there was no way she was convincing him otherwise. "Okay," she agreed in a low tone.

"Thank you," Evan smiled, taking her hand and holding it lightly. "Did I tell you how glad I am you're okay?"

"Only about fifty times so far," Elaine teased. "But you can tell me again."

"I'm glad you're okay Sis," he dutifully repeated, squeezing her hand fondly before letting her go.

They sat together in companionable silence for a while, Elaine's attention half distracted by the small television mounted from the ceiling, playing but with the sound muted.

"So ... how long have you been in love with Drew?" Evan broke the silence to ask.

"I _knew_ you were going to ask me that!" Elaine exclaimed irritably, pining him with eyes dark with annoyance.

"Then you should already have your answer prepared," he countered.

"You know it's none of your business right?" she pointed out. When Evan nodded but continued to watch her, waiting for his answer, she sighed. "Fine. I don't really know for sure. There was a spark there from the beginning but I didn't really consider him as a possibility until I visited you in Alberta."

"That's a long time ago," he said in surprise. "Why didn't you ever mention it?"

"Because I knew what you'd say," Elaine replied. "What you're probably thinking right now in fact. Besides, it's only been recently that we've considered being anything other than friends."

"I wasn't going to say anything," Evan said defensively. "It's just ...," he trailed off.

"Just what?" Elaine persisted, knowing he wouldn't be happy until he'd gotten it out of his system.

"Is that the kind of life you really want?" Evan asked quietly. "Months of separation while he's stationed somewhere you can't follow. Times when a situation will erupt and you won't know what's going on. Dreading the phone ringing because you know it might be bad news."

"Do you think Mom would give back even a second of the time she had with Dad to avoid the ending?" Elaine asked just as quietly.

It wasn't the answer he was expecting. "I don't know ... she doesn't talk about it."

"No – _you_ don't talk about it," Elaine corrected. "I've spoken to her Evan. She loved Dad more than anything and there is _no_ way in hell she'd give up even a second of the time she had with him to avoid the pain that came after. I know you think you can protect everyone by closing that part of yourself away but I won't live that way," she watched him closely as she spoke. "You can't choose who you love."

Evan remained silent, struggling to find the words to counter her argument because he knew, deep down, that she was right.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" she demanded when the silence had drawn on for a while.

"You don't need my approval," he pointed out.

"No, but I don't want my happiness to hurt you," Elaine's voice waivered a little as she looked away.

"_Elaine_," Evan rubbed a hand across his forehead tiredly, thinking he should have known better than to bring this up with her, especially given the circumstances. "You're _not_ hurting me. I'm happy for you okay. Drew's a good man ... I trust him in the air and I can't do anything less than the same down on the ground. Does that make you feel better?"

Elaine said nothing, her eyes fixed on a point above his head.

"Hey!?" he protested her lack of attention just when he was forcing himself to be the good big brother.

"Turn up the TV Evan," Elaine demanded.

Glancing over his shoulder, Evan registered the location currently being broadcast on the screen and stood abruptly. Reaching high for the volume controls he turned up the sound.

"_Security will be stepped up to protect the rest of what remains the most valuable collection of British art in the world. Officials of the museum are urging members of the public to come forward if they know anything about the theft or those responsible_," a female newsreader announced.

"_Ophelia is one of Millais's best known works_," another man appeared on screen with the caption that announced him as the curator of the Tate Britain. "_It saddens me that someone would take an important piece of our history and I can only hope that those behind this will be apprehended soon._"

"_And in other news_ ...," Evan reached up to mute the sound again.

"I guess we know what happened after we left now," he commented darkly.

oOo

With efficient ease Lorne saw to the arrangements for his sister's return to the States. He'd suggested Drew might want to go back with her, make sure she got there safely but it was Elaine who'd vetoed that, saying that Evan needed Drew more right then than she did. She and Drew had exchanged a long, wordless gaze before he'd nodded reluctantly.

At the airport, Evan hugged his sister tightly, whispering that he loved her and then forcing himself to step back to make room for Drew to say his own farewells. Turning away to give them privacy, Evan only refocussed when Elaine called his name, hugging him again before resolutely making her way to the check-in gate.

She turned to wave one more time, her careful movements reminding the two men of her injuries, before disappearing from sight.

"What now?" Drew asked quietly, eyes still on the doors leading to Elaine's plane.

"Now we get serious," Evan returned purposefully.

**Authors Note:**

No new 'must see' picture for Lorne this chapter - the latest stolen work has been added to the 'stolen' page on my website!


	9. The Ship of Fools

**Chapter 9: The Ship of Fools**

_Location: France  
Key Date: Thursday, 29__th__ July, 1999_

"Seven paintings in seven countries," Drew commented. "That takes skill and access to some serious resources."

The two men had packed their belongings along with Elaine's, checking out of the Crown Regent before taking her to the airport. Now they sat in one of Heathrow's many cafes, anonymous in the sea of people making their way through one of the world's busiest airports.

"Lucky for us we have access to even more serious resources," Evan replied, eyes unfocussed as he thought strategies.

"I take it you're done being 'Mr' Lorne?" Drew asked.

"For now," Lorne agreed casually. "I need to make a couple of calls, ask for a few favours. While I'm doing that you can get us tickets to Paris."

"You think they'll follow?" the other man frowned, eyes narrowed.

"I think they're playing with me," Evan replied. "I think they've spent so many years being untouchable they honestly don't think anyone can take them down. So yeah, I think they'll follow us. Particularly after the message I left on Lefèvre's phone last night telling him I was on the way to Paris."

"You think he's involved?" Drew's brows rose sharply at what it seemed Evan was suggesting.

"Not sure," Lorne admitted. "All I know is something's not right with him. He just upped and disappeared last night Drew ... essentially left us in the lurch even though he professed to need me to catch his crooks. That just doesn't make sense. Maybe the thieves have surveillance on him just like he does on them. Maybe he's in on it and our night at the Tate was just part of the set up. Either way I'm counting on him following us and whoever's behind this following him."

"Okay ... make your calls," Drew agreed. "I'll go get our tickets."

Evan nodded, watching Drew walk away and then pulling out his phone. He'd considered a number of people he could ask for help before deciding on his first choice ... someone he respected who'd hopefully have connections in France they could use.

Dialling the number Lorne waited, listening to the phone ringing half a world away. "Major Baker," he greeted his old commanding officer respectfully when the phone was answered. He'd always seen the older man as a kind of mentor and had kept in touch since he'd left Canada. "It's Evan Lorne here."

"Evan," Baker replied, his tone welcoming and friendly. "How have you been son?" he didn't add the words 'since the funeral' but both men heard them anyway.

"I'm okay Sir," Evan dismissed lightly.

Baker knew him well enough to be able to read between those lines. "And how's that leave working out for you?" he asked lightly.

It was a small world for a fighter pilot so Evan wasn't surprised Major Baker knew he'd taken off. "That's what I'm calling about," Lorne admitted. "I've kind of gotten myself into a bit of a situation over here Sir. I was hoping you'd be able to help me sort it out."

"What can I do for you Evan?" Baker immediately replied.

"If you could pave the way with Interpol's National Central Bureau in Paris Sir – vouch for me – that would go a long way to resolving things," Evan explained without going into too much detail over the phone.

"Consider it done," the Major promised. "Is that all you need?"

"Ah ... not exactly," Evan hesitated before continuing. "I need access to some ... surveillance equipment ... and some authorised weapons for myself and Andrew Rider. Is there anyone in Paris you can put me in touch with Sir?"

"Surveillance equipment," Baker repeated slowly. "What sort of trouble have you gotten yourself into Evan?"

"The kind that requires the threat of force ... and indisputable evidence," Lorne summarised grimly.

"Right," Major Baker paused for a moment, thinking. "I know some people in the French military," he offered. "I'll get in touch and see what they can do for you. Give me your number so I can get back to you with the details."

Evan rattled off the mobile number quickly. "Thank you for all of this Sir," he said gratefully.

"You're level headed Lorne," Baker replied. "I trust you not to smear the good name of either of our country's military with whatever you've got planned over there."

"I'll try my best not to do that Sir," Evan promised.

"Leave it with me then," Baker concluded.

Lorne thanked him again and then disconnected the call, thinking hard before dialling another number, this one from a business card he'd been carrying around for a few weeks.

"Mr Green," he began when the call was answered. "You might not remember me ... its Evan Lorne here. We met at the Budapest National Gallery about a month ago."

"Of course ... Evan," Brian Green replied. "Did you finally make it to England?"

"Ah ... not exactly," Evan admitted. "Listen, this is probably a long shot and I hate to even use a chance meeting like this but I was wondering if you had any connections at the Louvre. I really need to speak to one of the curators there and it's too urgent to go down the road of making an appointment. Plus I need some kind of reference otherwise there's little chance they'll accept a meeting request from me."

"I _have_ met with one of the curators, Monsieur Perrie, on many occasions," Green admitted. "If I may ask, what is this about?"

"Just something relating to one of their paintings I overheard in the last gallery I visited," Lorne felt guilty for lying but there was no other way – he didn't want to involve anyone else more than he had to. "I wanted to pass on the information but there's no guarantee it'll reach the right ears unless I speak to one of the curators personally."

Green thought for a moment, the silence lengthening as Evan began to think he'd be getting a No response. "Very well," Brian finally agreed. "I will call Perrie and request he see you with all possible haste. When will you be in Paris?"

"Within the next couple of hours," Evan revealed. "Give him this number," he again rattled off the now familiar digits, "and tell him to call me any time, no notice beyond travel time required."

"I'll do that," Green acknowledged.

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate this Brian," Evan said gratefully.

"Anything that helps a fellow gallery, even one as large as the Louvre, is thanks enough," Brian replied. "I will call you back if there are difficulties. Otherwise you can expect a call from Monsieur Perrie shortly.

"Thank you," Evan replied before saying goodbye and hanging up.

He had the basics for his plan in play. Now all he had to do was draw all the pieces together and lay them out in the required spots. Easy.

oOo

It was interesting that Lorne would seek to trap a thief with the Louvre as his backdrop. Just two years before the French Prime Minister had initiated the Mattéoli Commission to investigate cultural property seized during World War II by the Nazi's and under Napoleon I. While many pieces were returned to their owners the museum continued to hold almost 700 pieces of claimed artwork, despite requests from the source nations for their return. Their motives in protecting rare and valuable works were perhaps admirable but the situation was one of ongoing arbitration by UNESCO.

Evan and Drew walked from Charles de Gaul airport into the middle of an overcast French day, packs over their shoulders and determined expressions on their faces. Since Elaine's accident the light hearted Drew Lorne was used to had disappeared, leaving behind a man grimly determined to see the end of the people behind it. And that suited Evan just fine.

"Where to first?" Drew asked.

"I guess we go check out the Louvre,' Evan decided. "Can't do much else until I get a couple of calls back."

"Let's go then," Drew nodded to the map Lorne carried. "Got a route planned out?"

"Of course," Lorne agreed with a faint smirk. "This isn't one we can walk to though ... unless you're up for a five hour hike. We'll have to take a taxi."

Glancing around, the other man quickly spotted the taxi queue and moved to join the back of the line. "I wonder how Elaine's doing?" he muttered.

"Living it up in first class as we speak," Evan replied, amazed at how quickly he'd moved from being reluctant to see the relationship between his sister and friend to actively reassuring Drew that Elaine was okay. "It's a long flight ... plenty of time for her to get some rest. My Mom will meet her plane and take Lainee home," he reminded Drew, having spoken to his mother during the early hours of the morning at the hospital after he'd seen that Elaine would be okay. Grace Lorne hadn't asked questions ... just listened as Evan had summarised what had happened since he'd last spoken to her. She hadn't judged either for which Evan was more than grateful, just agreed that he should send Elaine home to recover with her.

Drew looked as reassured as he was going to get, stepping up to the vacant taxi that pulled up when it was their turn and getting in the back, Evan following him closely.

"The Musée du Louvre," Evan instructed, sitting back and turning his eyes towards the windows. It was almost an hour later that the taxi turned on to Rue de Rivoli and from there on to Rue de l'Amiral de Coligny. Where the streets prior had been narrow and close with buildings rising on either side, as they got closer to the museum the wide sidewalks made the roads seem wide and open.

And then suddenly they were there, the Louvre Palace stretching to either direction as the taxi pulled over outside. Evan paid quickly, following Drew out of the back, eyes fixed on the most visited museum in Europe.

The entirety of the museum formed an upside down 'U', with three separate wings taking up respective sides and the world famous pyramid in the middle. On the far side of the building was the right bank of the river Seine. It was old and impressive on a grand scale. To the left was the wing Evan was most interested in ... the Richelieu Wing was home to a large collection of French, German and Dutch paintings, including the one he would have made his must see piece.

Not the Mona Lisa, although he had every intention of visiting her once he'd finished with Lefèvre and the art thieves. No, his choice was a simple painting entitled Grace, an oil on canvas painted by Jean-Baptiste-Siméon Chardin in 1740. But there'd be time for that later ... for now he just wanted to get a general feel for the layout and administration.

"You really think someone could take a painting from here?" Drew spoke under his breath as they went through the process of checking in their bags and gaining entrance.

"The Mona Lisa was stolen in 1911 by an employee who kept it for two years before he was caught," Evan replied. "Admittedly they've probably stepped up security a bit since then but I think the past couple of months prove there's no such thing as an impossible theft."

Drew went to answer when Evan held up a hand, reaching into a pocket and pulling out his silently ringing mobile.

"Evan Lorne," he answered with his name, listening intently for a few moments before nodding. "Thank you Sir. I owe you at least a forty for this," he listened again and then laughed. "I'll try Sir," he promised before hanging up.

"Well?" Drew looked at him expectantly.

"Got the equipment I need," Evan revealed, pulling out his map of Paris and a pen and searching it intently. "We just have to get to Taverny Air Base in the Val d'Oise," he said, circling a location. "It's about 12 miles north of here. Before we do that though I need one of my other favours to come through. And I need to go speak to a contact from Interpol."

"Sounds like you're gonna be a busy boy," Drew retorted. "You want to fill me in on what you've got planned or just stick with the cryptic crap?"

"Once I have all the pieces lined up I'll fill you in," Evan promised.

Drew frowned but didn't insist on further information right there and then. The two men walked the ground floor of each wing of the museum before stopping in at the bookshop where Evan purchased a number of books on the museum itself. He also picked up brochures detailing the current activities of the museum, including planned shows they were assisting with.

"Floor plans and details on all the collections," he explained to Drew. "Should be something in there about the works they don't display too. That's about all I can do here for now. Time to visit Interpol."

oOo

Evan went to Interpol by himself, sending Drew out to find them somewhere to stay. Although strictly speaking he wasn't going to Interpol as such. Their headquarters were located in Lyon, almost 300 miles away. Instead he was going to the Paris National Central Bureau, staffed mostly by French law enforcement officers. The contact Major Baker had arranged for him was located there and with any luck would both believe Lorne's story and be willing to act on the matter. He knew it was a long shot and had another plan in mind in the likelihood they had to go it alone.

Walking up to the main desk, Evan smiled at the woman sitting behind the counter. "Captain Evan Lorne," he introduced himself. "I'm here to see Monsieur Durand."

"He's expecting you Captain," the woman replied. "Please have a seat while I call him."

Nodding Evan didn't sit, standing instead near the windows and looking out at the street.

"Captain Lorne?" Evan turned to see a short Frenchman dressed in a pin striped suit complete with red satin tie.

"Yes ... Monsieur Durand?" Evan stepped forward, holding out a hand.

"I am Durand," he shook Lorne's hand, and then motioned for him to walk with him. "I must admit I was surprised to get a call from the American military asking that I meet with you," he spoke, leading Evan through a set of doors and into an open area that included a number of desks all occupied. They walked through the gaps between to an office at the back, Durand waving a hand at a chair in front of his desk, inviting Evan to take a seat. "Now ... what can Interpol help you with Captain," he asked as he sat down.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me," Lorne began. "I had some involvement with one of your colleagues in Amsterdam a couple of weeks ago and then again in London earlier this week ... about the theft of several art works from galleries across Europe." Evan continued the story, trying as best he could with as few words as possible to summarise the situation as he knew it. "I was hoping to get your cooperation in taking a more direct approach," he finally concluded.

Durand had listened silently as Lorne spoke, nodding here and there. Now he frowned, looking at Evan intently. "You say you assisted one of our agents?" he broached.

"Yes," Lorne reached into his pocket, taking out Lefèvre's business card. "Anton Lefèvre," he said, handing it to the other man.

Durand took the card, looking at it closely, eyes narrowed.

"Is there a problem?" Evan asked, getting that bad feeling again.

"You could say that," Durand sighed, placing the card carefully on the desk in front of him. "Monsieur Lefèvre is no longer an employee of Interpol, and in fact has not been so for more than a year."

"Damn," Evan muttered. "I _knew_ there was something off about him but I didn't question it because he appeared to have the full cooperation of the authorities in Amsterdam."

"Did you see his credentials?" Durand asked curiously.

"Ah ....," Evan thought for a moment. "Now that you mention it, no I didn't. My first meeting with him was through the Amsterdam police. Surely he'd have shown ID to them."

"Indeed," Durand agreed. "If I recall correctly, it was Lefèvre's obsession with apprehending a so called 'ring' of art thieves that led to his removal from Interpol. He continued to insist on the guilt of parties proper investigation had cleared, even after the real culprits were apprehended and convicted years before. It has been some time now since events of a like nature have taken place ... I _had_ hoped that Monsieur Lefèvre had moved on but clearly that is not the case."

"He did mention suspects he was sure were behind this," Evan revealed. "But he never said anything about the crimes already being solved."

It was a blow; there was no getting around that. Anton had misled Lorne, badly, and if he could get his hands on the other man he'd make sure to express his extreme ... _displeasure_. But regardless, the thefts that had taken place during Evan's trip were a reality ... and something still had to be done about those.

"That doesn't explain the latest round of thefts," Evan pointed out respectfully. "Seven works in seven countries so far - that can't be just a coincidence."

"This is news to us Captain Lorne," Durand admitted with a sigh. "We rely on participating countries to provide us with information ... too often single incidents such as the ones you describe are not reported. That is if these incidents even occured."

"What, you think Lefèvre was lying to me about that too?" Lorne frowned, thinking back to what he knew from first hand experience. "Even if that's the case it still leaves two thefts I know for sure occurred - Amsterdam and London. They could still be connected."

"Perhaps, but with no evidence to link them there is little law enforcement officials can do," Durand replied. "I _will_ have the matter followed up Captain. Rest assured, Monsieur Lefèvre will not be left to continue impersonating a member of this organisation." He paused, before continuing. "As to the rest I am not sure what it is you wish us to do. Interpol does not run operations directly ... we assist our participating countries primarily with the provision of up to date information where international criminal activity is involved. We do not have the resources to do more than this ... and as you can see our information is only as good as our sources allow."

"I see," Lorne was disappointed but he'd known it was a long shot that he'd be able to just hand the whole mess over to someone else to fix. "Lefèvre mentioned case files as well as possible suspects. Would it be possible for me to get a look at them?"

Durand hesitated for a moment before coming to a decision. "We do not have hard copies here Captain, but electronic records are usually made of all cases overseen by our agency. I will ask one of my staff to assist you in accessing this information."

"Thank you Monsieur," Lorne said gratefully.

Durand led him out into the main work area. "Mademoiselle Girard, this is Captain Lorne from America."

Evan nodded, listening as Durand instructed her to help him search for the information he needed. Thanking the man again, nodding at his reassurances that he would deal with Lefèvre, Lorne then sat down and began giving Miss Girard the details she'd need for the search.

Most of what came up was information Evan already knew from what Anton had told him - at least he hadn't lied about that. They'd been scrolling through dry reports, following the trail of Lefèvre while he'd still been an employee when something on the screen grabbed Lorne's attention.

"Stop," he said urgently. "Scroll back."

He watched as photos were displayed in reverse order to how he'd just seen them. "There."

Miss Girard halted the scrolling, glancing at Lorne curiously. "Is this one important?" she asked curiously.

"Yeah," Evan's eyes were pinned on the smiling images of Maria and Harry Luca. "Yeah it is."

oOo

"I can't believe this!" Evan was angrily pacing back and forth across the room Drew had checked them in to. It was early evening in what had turned out to be a very long day and he'd updated the other man on the latest ... that Lefèvre was in fact _not_ a member of Interpol and that a nice couple he'd met back in Italy were apparently his prime suspects. "That whole time the Luca's were collecting information about me so they could _use_ _me_ as their scapegoat. She was so nice, Drew. I _never_ would have suspected her."

"Suspected doesn't mean guilty," Drew pointed out.

"Maybe not, but it's a little too coincidental to me that a couple I met on my first stop turn out to be ex-suspects in a string of past art thefts," Evan replied darkly.

"So what's Interpol gonna do about all this?" Drew asked curiously.

"About Lefèvre – they'll pick him up if he's stupid enough to turn up in their radar," Lorne explained. "As for the rest of it, getting access to their files is the best we can expect. They'll keep the local authorities informed and pass on any pertinent information as soon as it comes to light. The rest is up to the local authorities in the affected countries. He did say they could send someone to assist with coordination but I don't think that's gonna fix our immediate problem."

"So we go to Taverny first thing tomorrow?" Drew took a seat at the small table, casually rifling through the books and pamphlets Lorne had dumped there when he'd arrived.

Lorne's phone chose that moment to ring. Evan glanced at the number and then answered by giving his name.

"Monsieur Lorne," the male voice at the other end replied. "My name is Gérard Perrie, curator, 16th Century paintings, at the Louvre."

"Monsieur Perrie, thank you for calling me," Lorne replied, attention immediately focussed on the call.

"Mr Green from the Green and Black Gallery in London called and mentioned you had information about a painting at the Louvre," Perrie replied.

"In a manner of speaking," Evan agreed. "Is it possible we could come to the museum and meet with you Monsieur?"

"You have sparked my curiosity Mr Lorne," the curator admitted. "I can spare an hour tomorrow morning ... say 10 am?"

"We'll be there," Evan promised, thanking the man again before hanging up. "Okay, now we're getting somewhere," he told Drew.

"And where exactly would that be?" Drew asked pointedly.

"At the point where we can trap Lefèvre and the Luca's into making a mistake," Evan explained. Picking up one of the brochures he opened it and held it up for Drew to see. "Hieronymus Bosch ... 16th Century painter who was famous for painting triptychs – scenes in three parts. There's one in particular – it doesn't have a collective name – that was cut into several parts soon after it was painted. The National Gallery of Art in Washington owns one panel and is bringing the other two pieces together for the first time since it was first broken up. Yale University Gallery owns another piece and the Louvre the third – theirs is called _The Ship of Fools_. It's been removed from display so they can ship it to the States ... which makes it a very attractive item for any self respecting art thief."

"Why is that?" Drew was intrigued with both the emerging strategy he was starting to perceive as well as this other side to his friend – his openly knowledgeable 'arty' side.

"Because Bosch most often painted directly on wood," Evan replied. "If you're an art thief you want to take something easy to transport ... like a canvas that you can cut from the frame, roll up and hide in a post tube. That effectively puts a Bosch out of reach ... until now. This one will be packaged and ready for transport ... it's practically irresistible."

"This is all great Evan but there's no way for us to know where these people – the Luca's – are right now, or where they're going to be next week," Drew pointed out sceptically. "We could set this up and never know whether they were tempted to take the bait or they just never heard about it."

"That's why I was thinking I'd use this," Evan held up a business card, the one Harry had pressed on him before he'd taken his leave.

Taking it, Drew read it and then looked back to Lorne immediately. "Let me get this straight ... you've been carrying this around for _two_ months and you're only telling me about it now?!"

"I've only known the Luca's were involved for less than a day," Evan pointed out. "Harry gave me that card after the one dinner but I was never tempted to use it ... to be honest I kind of forgot I even had it. Given what we know about them, what're the chances that's really their number anyway?"

"Okay, good point ...I guess we won't know unless you call them," Drew smiled suddenly. "Time to tap into that inner 'Rookie Most Wanted' ... how did Steph put it?" He thought for a moment. "Oh, that's right. Because you're just so darn nice." He laughed at the expression of distaste on his friends face.

"Laugh it up buddy ... but remember one thing. I know plenty of stories you wouldn't want me repeating around my sister." It was Evan's turn to tease and he took delight in the way the smile dropped right off Drew's face.

"You wouldn't do that," Drew insisted.

"I might," Evan countered, laughing again.

"Just make the call," Drew shot back.

Right," Evan quickly dialled the number, turning away and walking to the window as he waited for someone to answer.

"_Hello, Maria Luca_."

"Mrs Luca," Evan said in a charming voice. "It's Evan Lorne here. I'm not sure if you'd even remember me now – Italy, the Uffizi Gallery, at the beginning of June?"

"_Of course I remember you Evan_," Maria exclaimed, sounding genuinely pleased that he'd called. "_Are you still travelling?_"

"I'm on the last leg before I have to return to work," Evan replied. "I remember Harry saying the two of you would be travelling for a while ... it's a shame we never bumped into each other again ... I hope you don't mind me calling," he paused, slipping into a faintly melancholy tone he hoped would have her feeling sympathetic ... if that was even something an international art thief _could_ feel. "To be honest it's a little ... lonely travelling by myself. I've had a few ... difficulties along the way too ... it'd be nice to be around people who actually know me instead of a room full of strangers."

"_Oh you poor dear_," Maria exclaimed. "_Harry and I are still on the road ... where are you now?_"

"Paris," Evan said simply. "I'm going to spend a few days checking out the Louvre before I head back to the States."

"_Paris_," Maria's tone had an odd edge Evan only picked up because he'd been carefully looking for some kind of clue that she and her husband were really what Anton Lefèvre believed them to be. "_Why, that's wonderful Evan. Harry and I are on our way there right now_."

"Really?" Evan said with pretended surprise. "That's great Mrs Luca."

"_Maria, please_," she replied. "_Well then ... why don't you give me your number dear? I'll call you just as soon as we have a free evening and we can have dinner. How does that sound?_"

"That sounds perfect ... Maria," Evan smiled, quickly rattling off his mobile number.

"_You've been to the Louvre already?_" Maria asked curiously.

"Just for a couple of hours," Evan replied. "I couldn't see the piece I came here for – it's no longer on display. It's disappointing but there's still plenty of other works to admire."

"_That's a shame_," Maria said sympathetically. There was a pause and then, just as he'd been counting on, she couldn't resist asking. "_What was it you most wanted to see?_"

"The Ship of Fools," Lorne put active disappointment into his voice, even as he grinned across at Drew who was listening with interest to Evan's side of the conversation.

"_Oh, I know it!_" Maria said excitedly. "_Hieronymus Bosch ... part of a larger work. It really is a shame you couldn't see it Evan – it's a wonderful piece._"

"I've seen pictures of course," Lorne returned, "but I know now how little that really means." He hesitated for a moment, and then spoke in a low tone. "You probably noticed when we had dinner that I didn't talk about my work ... I guess you could say I'm going through a bit of a mid life crisis. Something happened at work and now ... well, now I feel a little like the people Bosch painted in The Ship of Fools ... wasting my life instead of spending it doing something useful." It was all a lie of course but there were enough elements of truth to lend conviction and realism to his voice.

"_I wondered_," Maria's tone was almost maternal now. "_I said to Harry 'that boy is grieving for someone' ... you just seemed so sad. Are you feeling better now dear?_"

"I'm getting there," Evan admitted, laughing weakly. "Sorry ... I shouldn't be wasting your time with my problems."

"_Don't apologise_," Maria insisted. "_We can talk more when we see you Evan. I'll call you when we get to Paris._"

"Thanks Maria," Evan said before finishing up the call. "That's one," he said to Drew, pulling out another card and dialling again.

This time the call went straight to messaging. "Anton, its Evan Lorne here. Listen, I saw the news reports about what happened at the Tate and I just wanted to apologise for leaving you in the lurch that night. My sister's fine now – on her way home in fact. Drew and I decided to move on to Paris ... see the Louvre before we head back to the States. There's a Bosch I particularly want to see before they ship it to the States," Evan chuckled. "You know me ... gotta have that one _special_ piece to draw me to a particular gallery. Probably should be the Mona Lisa but everybody comes here to see her. Anyway, ... give me a call if you're still looking for assistance with that little problem we talked about."

Hanging up, he grinned. "And that's two. Now we just have to hope Monsieur Perrie at the Louvre is willing to do more than just hear me out or this could all blow up in our faces."

oOo

"He called me," Maria Luca tried to keep her voice calm. Despite everything, despite how sincere Evan Lorne had seemed over the phone she was worried.

"And?" the man on the other end replied blandly.

"And I think that's more than a coincidence!" Maria exclaimed.

"He's suspicious, yes," the man agreed. "But he is just one man ... and he knows nothing of value. If he called you it was simply to follow up a casual acquaintance ... after all Harry did give him your number."

"How can you be sure of that?" she asked.

"Because he called me too."

**Authors Note:**

Getting to the business end of the story now! The Ship of Fools has been added to my website ... gotta love Bosch ... well I do anyway! I must admit I like my 'arty' Lorne just as much as 'pilot Lorne' ... in fact I can see quite the market for a series of Lorne dolls ... pilot Lorne, solider Lorne and arty Lorne to name but three. They'd all have accessories too ... arty Lorne a paint spattered shirt, an easel and teenie tiny paint brushes ... LOL okay, enough babbling. Hope everyone is still enjoying this. Thanks for reading.


	10. Grace

**Chapter 10: Grace**

_Location: France  
Key Date: Saturday, 31__st__ July, 1999_

At just before 10 am the next day Evan and Drew walked into the Louvre for the second time, asking at the desk where they might find Monsieur Gérard Perrie. Following the directions they were given they arrived at a closed door pronouncing the occupant inside to be the man they were looking for.

"Mr Lorne," Perrie greeted them kindly, his french accent the cultured, educated kind. He was a small man, appearing almost delicate, with grey hair and a complexion that had Lorne placing him somewhere around 60 years of age.

"Monsieur Perrie ... thank you for meeting with us," Evan stepped forward and shook the older man's hand. "Please call me Evan, and this is my friend Andrew Rider."

"Drew," his friend replied, shaking Perrie's hand as well.

"Please, have a seat gentlemen," the curator waved a hand towards the corner of his well appointed office, set up with couches and a low table. Once everyone was seated comfortably, Perrie spoke again. "Now ... please ... tell me what you wished to see me about."

"You would have heard about the robbery at the Tate a couple of days ago?" Evan questioned, getting a nod in return. "It's one of a string of art thefts that have taken place across Europe since the beginning of June. I have good reason to believe they're headed here next."

"Our security measures are without equal," Perrie smiled complacently. "We have no need to fear they will be successful here, if indeed you are correct that such a ring exists and we are their next target."

"I bet the Tate Britain thought _their_ security was up to scratch too," Evan said bluntly. "I've been in contact with Interpol ... I've read the file on related incidents potentially spanning the past ten years. These people know what they're doing and so far no one has been able to get even close to catching them."

Lorne had decided sometime during the night to present their case as the tail end of something much larger ... because he still wasn't convinced that _wasn't_ the case, despite what Monsieur Durand had told him, and because it was probably their best shot at getting the cooperation of the Louvre.

"Why is it that you take such an interest in this?" Perrie asked curiously.

"Because they set me up to take the fall for their crimes," Evan admitted, his expression grim. "I spent a night in jail in Amsterdam before the authorities finally worked out I had nothing to do with it. They're following me, using my movements, the galleries I visit to both choose their next target and cast suspicion elsewhere."

"Shouldn't you report this to the police then Mr Lorne?" Perrie suddenly seemed a little less friendly than he had before.

"I _could_ do that," Evan agreed. "But if history is anything to go by that'll just result in them going underground again ... only to restart their activities in the future with a new scapegoat. And that doesn't sit well with me Monsieur Perrie."

"What would you have me do?" the curator gave nothing away about his willingness to help.

"Not a great deal," Evan explained. "Every theft since June has been of a work not on display, I'm guessing because they're not held under as tight security as those open to the public. You have a very attractive Bosch about to be shipped to America."

"Ah yes, the Ship of Fools," Perrie nodded. "It is due to be shipped out next week in fact."

"All I'm asking is that you make that a little more public than it already is, something in the media that'll make it seem vulnerable and therefore the easiest target in the entire museum," Evan suggested. "My friend and I have access to surveillance equipment that's pretty much second to none ... you let us set up around the Bosch on top of the security you already run."

"It is not museum policy to allow outsiders inside the non public areas," the curator shook his head.

"What Evan didn't say when he introduced us is that we're both officers in our countries air forces," Drew spoke up for the first time. Reaching into a pocket he pulled out his air force credentials, handing them over easily. Evan saw the change in the curator's demeanour – he didn't immediately agree to hand them the keys to the Louvre but something about his posture said he was more open to listening.

Getting out his own air force ID, Lorne waited for Perrie to give Drew his back and then offered it to the older man. "Our organisations can vouch for us Monsieur Perrie," he met the older man's eyes as he continued. "You _can_ trust us."

Perrie checked Evan's ID intently, looking up, his eyes moving from Lorne to Drew and then back again, his expression thoughtful.

"We'll work with your security teams and you can personally check all the steps before we take them," Evan proposed. "It's a win win for your collection. If nothing happens then you have a piece of art that's enjoyed higher than normal protection before its journey to the US. And if the thieves _do_ target it, if they manage to get close, then with all the extra unexpected measures, the Bosch will remain safe and we'll get the evidence we need to stop them for good."

"Very well," Perrie agreed abruptly. "But you will follow the orders of my head of security. And if there is any doubt that the Bosch can be protected you will quit your activities immediately."

"Agreed," Evan said instantly, his words echoed by Drew.

Nodding, the curator stood and moved to his desk, picking up the phone and pressing a button. "Have Mr Parker come to my office," he requested. Hanging up he added, "my head of security. You can discuss your specific plans with him."

"Thank you," Evan stood, holding out a hand and shaking Perrie's gratefully.

oOo

After meeting with Trent Parker, an ex officer of the British army who proved the adage that servicemen stuck together, no matter what country they'd served, Lorne was ready to make the trip to Taverny air base to pick up what they'd need. The fact that he already had connections to the French military, that they were in fact already helping him had carried weight with Perrie and with Parker. Once they'd known that, the last barriers to true cooperation were lifted and strategies devised.

"This could all be for nothing you know," Drew couldn't help but point out as he sat in the passenger seat of a car the Louvre had provided for them. "One vague phone call to a person who might not even be involved isn't a lot to count on."

"I know," Lorne agreed, "but I've got a feeling about this Drew ... I don't know why but I'm _sure_ this is the way to go."

"All right," Drew nodded. He still had doubts but he trusted Evan.

It took a while to leave the streets of Paris behind but when they turned onto the A115 everything sped up until fifteen minutes later they exited the freeway and drove the short distance to the Air Base.

Showing his ID at the check point, Lorne was waved through. He parked in the visitor area, the two friends walking to the information desk to sign in. The military in France was just as efficient as anywhere else ... in short order they'd been introduced to a Major Picard who listened as Evan described his requirements and then without even blinking agreed to loan them everything they needed.

An hour later they were back in the car and heading back to Paris.

"That went well," Drew commented.

"That's the military for you," Lorne replied. "Efficiency in the face of anything you can throw at it."

"You sound a little bitter there," Drew turned to look at Evan. "You know Elaine wanted me to talk to you about that, right?"

"Yeah, I know – she's worried about me," Evan acknowledged. He'd called Elaine the previous evening and been reassured both by her own manner and the opinion of his Mom that she really was okay. He had no doubt that Drew had also spoken to his sister since she'd arrived back on U.S. soil ... not that he wanted to know the details.

"Does she need to be?" Drew asked simply.

Evan said nothing, fixing his eyes to the road ahead.

"I'll take that as a yes," Drew looked back to the road too before shifting slightly in his seat, making it clear he wasn't letting it drop. "What's got you most annoyed – that John got killed doing Mickey Mouse protection duty or that they expected you to just report back like nothing happened?"

"_Enough_," Evan's tone warned Drew not to push him but Drew just ignored it.

"Because if it's the second I think you've got it backwards," he said. "They _don't_ expect you to act like nothing happened Evan. You do that to yourself because you're always so bloody determined not to let your emotions show. The structure, the whole set up ... it's there to support you just as much as it is to guide what you should be doing. _If_ you let it."

Lorne shot Drew a glance and then resolutely turned his attention back to driving.

"See, you're not saying anything because you _know_ I'm right," Drew announced. He let it go for a few minutes before speaking again. "So, does this mean you're leaving the air force? Going to try your hand at the life of a struggling artist?"

"No!" Evan's response was immediate and instinctive.

"I didn't think so," Drew smiled smugly. "I just wanted to see how far deluding yourself had gone."

"You're a real genius ... _Crater_," Lorne shook his head, but then honestly and friendship compelled him to speak up. "Okay, I _admit_ that it bothered me how quickly everything moved past John's death. Maybe that's because my guys didn't know John ... didn't serve with him. And maybe I lost a little faith in the whole pilot deal for a while there – that plane malfunctioned and a good man died because of it." Evan shot Drew a quick look before refocussing on the road. "Isn't it ... _wrong_ to be so completely enarmoured of something that caused the death of a friend?"

"No it's not wrong!" Drew retorted. "It was an _accident_ Evan! I know why that bothers you ... you still haven't learned that it doesn't matter how much responsibility you personally take - sometimes bad shit happens. There's nothing you could have done to change it."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," Evan muttered, frowning even though he knew Drew was right. But he knew himself too - and he couldn't see changing something that had been a part of his nature maybe even before his fathers death. Shaking his head he continued. "I'm not questioning whether I should be in the military Drew – not anymore. I just wonder whether I've got the balance right."

"I'm not sure you can ever get it completely right," Drew said thoughtfully. "Maybe it's about being flexible ... changing the balance to make room for other things coming into your life."

"Like you and my sister?" Evan asked seriously, as close as he'd get to asking the other man his 'intentions'.

"Hell yes," Drew grinned. "The only down side to that is that she's related to _you_."

"You _will_ pay for that," Lorne promised, keeping his expression stern even though he appreciated the shift back to the light hearted.

"You can't hurt me ... not without Elaine hurting you back," Drew said smugly.

"Oh, I'm a little more creative than that," Evan said lightly, "and after almost twenty six years of study I know how to get around my sister."

Drew's smug look fell away, leaving Evan laughing. Maybe having Drew around a little more wouldn't be so bad after all.

oOo

Evan Lorne wasn't an impatient man ... he knew how to hold position, how to wait for something to happen. That's why it surprised him how jumpy and uptight he felt as they set up their equipment at the Louvre, like he had an overload of adrenalin and nowhere to direct it.

Even with all the work they had to do setting up the surveillance equipment where the Bosch was being stored, he still felt the need to be doing something ... more. Truth be known he was sick of the entire business and just wanted it to be over. Instead of spending the past two months getting to know himself again he'd spent them chasing a bunch of common thieves ... deceptively nice people who'd deceived him which only made him angrier.

Security at the Louvre was good ... along with the standard security cameras and rosters of guards walking the floors day and night, they used a Minicom system. Each painting using the system had a sending unit attached behind the canvas with the holding device a part of the mechanism used to mount the picture to the wall. Each device had a unique coded message that was continually sent to the central control room – changes in orientation, the presence of vibration and even sudden changes in light were all detected. Of course if you knew what system they were using you could devise a countermeasure which was partly why museum security was such a closely guarded secret.

Along with the individual units the museum also had barricade alarms for the most important works, like the Mona Lisa. If the alarm went off the room would shut down immediately, trapping both thief and artwork inside. The big name items were rarely the ones targeted by thieves though. If you managed to steal the Mona Lisa who would you sell it to? It was so well known you'd never be able to show it to anyone, which kind of defeated the purpose of having it. That's why the works chosen by these thieves were more obscure – just famous enough to be worth something but not recognisable enough to draw undue attention.

The security at the Louvre _was_ good ... but what Evan and Drew had access to was a hell of a lot better. Electro-optical surveillance systems built for monitoring in any range of lighting conditions, including night time vision, with the ability to distinguish objects during all types of adverse weather conditions, and with remote sensing capabilities. Lorne acted in a commanding role, directing Trent Parker and his team on the placement and installation of each component, being guided himself by Trent's knowledge of the museum and the most likely points of entry.

The Luca's might have ways to take out standard surveillance but they wouldn't know the rest of it was there. The room where the Bosch was being stored, already packed for transport, was paid special attention. They installed covert video covering all directions, a tracker to the painting itself, and a portable surveillance unit to the inside of the transport box. If the item _was_ stolen, the minute the thieves opened it to admire their new masterpiece their image would be captured and sent back to the control systems the team installed beside the Louvre's already existing systems.

Evan also took the added precaution of rigging himself up for surveillance too, both video and audio disguised in a very bond like manner so that it wouldn't be detected. All set, with Louvre security running their usual sweeps, the only thing Lorne and Drew could do was wait.

oOo

Nothing happened the first night ... Evan and Drew only retired back to their hotel when the museum opened for business on the assurances of Trent Parker that everything would be left running, just in case the thieves broke form and attempted to steal in broad daylight. The Luca's did turn up as guests of the museum though, giving every appearance of being tourists as they walked through many of the galleries, presumably 'casing the joint'. The urge to confront them would have been hard to resist so it was lucky Lorne _wasn't_ there when the theiving couple visited. They needed evidence ... irrefutable, caught in the act evidence ... which meant leaving Harry and Maria to do whatever it was they did to prepare for crime. Maria didn't call Lorne for that dinner ... not that he was surprised since he hadn't really expected her to.

Evan was still feeling punchy and keen for action when they arrived for their second night of surveillance, too much so to feel the tiredness he should have after so little sleep the previous 48 hours.

He'd settled in for the long haul, eyes fixed on the screens in a semi unfocussed kind of way when he realised something was finally happening. "We've got something," he got on the radio to report to Parker. "South East corner, sector two." Everything seemed to pause as they waited ... and then the standard Louvre systems flickered and reset – clearly running off video given they no longer matched what was being shown by the more sophisticated military systems. "They've compromised your system," Lorne announced grimly.

"Acknowledged," Parker replied in a low voice.

"Hold position," Evan ordered. The electro-optical video feed was like watching the museum through a green, brightly lit filter that made everything stand out strangely. He was amazed at how quickly the two figures revealed amidst the green got to the storage room used for 16th century paintings. Clearly they'd known exactly where to head. Getting in the door was a non event, a simple matter of two thin pieces of metal and a basic knowledge of how locks worked. Evan could have picked that one himself with the same tools.

"They're in," he told Parker. "I'm moving to intercept." Turning to Drew as he stood, Lorne checked his gun, a 9mm Beretta, and then moved towards the door. "Keep an eye on them," he said. "Let me know if there's anything I need to be worrying about."

"And what are you going to do?" Drew asked worriedly.

"Nothing much," Evan dismissed. "Just have a little chat with our friends down there before I throw them to Parker and his men."

"Be careful," Drew cautioned. "They may look like a middle aged, mild mannered couple but you don't avoid getting caught across seven countries without having something up your sleeve."

"I'll keep that in mind," Lorne promised.

Keeping close to the wall, Evan made his way stealthily down the stairs, around a corner and then towards the end of a long corridor. The door of the storage room was slightly ajar and he could hear faint movements from within. "You're good to go," Drew's voice in his ear was all business.

Holding up a thumb to the hidden camera they'd installed over the entrance the day before, Evan slowly pushed the door open. The darkness inside had him pausing for a moment to get his bearings ... as he did he caught sight of lines of torchlight hitting the walls and ceilings. Proceeding cautiously, Lorne manoeuvred around the tables and shelves stacked with art ready for transport without being detected.

"Now," he whispered into the radio unit attached to his collar when he was only a few steps away.

Instantly the lights came on in the room. He was affected a little, his eyes not having enough time to really adjust to the darkness. Maria and Harry Luca on the other hand were very disoriented, stumbling as they experienced a moment of blindness. Harry was the first to recover, clearing his eyes to see Evan standing there, gun pointed directly at him. He made to move towards the nearest table.

"I wouldn't," Lorne warned, his tone quiet but deadly.

"Mr Lorne?" Harry was genuinely surprised to see him standing there.

"_Evan?_" Maria said a moment later, her eyes adjusted to the brighter light. "What ...?" she trailed off, shooting a fearful look at her husband.

"What am I doing here?" Lorne suggested. When they both nodded he chuckled grimly. "I think that's pretty self evident. I'm here to catch you in the act ... looks like I did just that, doesn't it?"

"How?" Harry grabbed Maria's hand, squeezing it reassuringly as he focussed intently on Evan.

"Well, see I neglected to tell you what it is I do for a living," Lorne was happy to fill them in on the details ... get them to the point where he could ask his own questions. "I'm not _Mister_ Lorne ... I'm _Captain_ Lorne ... United States air force. I've got friends high enough up the ranks to get access to some exclusive equipment you wouldn't know about."

"You set us up," Harry concluded.

"Seemed only fair after you did the same to me," Lorne shot back, his voice coldly angry. "Did you know they arrested me in Amsterdam?"

"Now Evan, we knew they wouldn't hold you for more than 24 hours," Maria explained pleadingly. "It was just to give us the time we needed to make our escape after our ... visits."

"That doesn't make me _feel_ better," Evan retorted. "I've had an ex Interpol agent tailing me across Europe – your fault as well."

"Anton Lefèvre," Harry acknowledged.

"You know him," Evan commented grimly.

"He's been our nemesis for years," Harry admitted. "In part he is the one responsible for your involvement. We needed to renew our activities but Lefèvre was forever circling like a buzzard ... we needed to create another point of interest."

"Is that why you arranged for my sister's accident?" Lorne's voice dropped low, his eyes dark and threatening. "Another _point_ of interest?"

"_What_?" Maria looked at Harry worriedly, giving every appearance of being genuinely surprised. "We didn't arrange any such thing Evan ... you must believe us. Harry and I would never hurt anyone ... not deliberately."

"_Watch out!_" Drew's warning echoed in his ear, too late.

Evan turned but before he could get a look the figures raised arm swung down towards his head and it was lights out Lorne.

oOo

Coming to a few minutes later with a groan Evan opened his eyes, closing them again with another groan. "You!" he exclaimed.

"Yes," Brian Green said complacently, holding Lorne's own borrowed weapon in a way that suggested he was more than capable of using it effectively. "Every good art thief needs an equally good conduit to liquidate their spoils." Harry and Maria stood close to each other to one side of the door, watching the proceeding with identical looks of fear and confusion.

"You're their '_fence'_?" Evan couldn't believe it ... had the whole world been turned upside down, or had he become way too trusting?

"It's a little crude but essentially correct," Green agreed. "I also encourage the Luca's to turn their attention to specific items ... when I have a buyer interested."

"Well you should know that this room and the corridor outside are under military surveillance," Lorne warned, putting a hand to the back of his head and wincing both at the pain and the covering of blood he discovered on lowering it. His head was throbbing in an unpleasant, make you sick to your stomach kind of way that had him not as sharply focussed as he could be.

"I am well aware of your pathetic attempts to catch me _Captain_ Lorne ... another advantage of being in the business," Green chuckled mockingly. "Gérard Perrie is a trusting fool who freely revealed your reason for being here along with everything you've done since you met with him. It's made getting into each gallery much easier too – I visit, meet with the curators, discuss works for my Gallery. And along the way I collect information about their security measures and the locations of works that are most vulnerable to ... liberation. Maria and Harry then act to remove them ... it's been a successful strategy for ten years." He waved a sweeping hand to his accomplices. "Who would suspect a middle aged couple in love? You didn't, did you Evan?"

"Why me?" Lorne ignored the taunting, intent on keeping them talking while Drew hopefully organised a way to get the bad guys without getting Evan shot in the process.

"You were single, travelling alone," Harry was the one to explain their choice. "After talking to you we realised you'd go to all the galleries we would also be visiting. It was nothing personal ... just the right set of circumstances to meet our requirements."

"When I saw your drawings I realised we could use that to further implicate you," Brain retook the explaining. "Detailed layouts of the museums, accurately featuring the outsides ... it all just fell into our hands." He smiled, his expression smug. "The card I gave you contains a tracking dot small and powerful enough to send out a basic signal for a few months – won't be on the market for years yet but I know some very _useful_ people. I've known precisely where you are every minute since we met in Budapest."

Evan caught sight of movement at the doors but gave no outward side. Inside his adrenalin resurged, clearing his head.

"You're just a regular Einstein aren't you," he commented. "Not to mention arrogant. You _knew_ I was trying to set you up and yet you still arranged for Maria and Harry to steal the painting I offered up as bait." Lorne shook his head. "And to think - I wouldn't have even known to suspect the Luca's if not for Anton Lefèvre."

"That man annoys to the point of torture," Green said bitterly. "I gave him other suspects ... Interpol was convinced and still he persisted. Even after he was sacked he continued to chase us."

"Yeah, I'd be a little pissed at being unfairly dismissed – you kinda brought it on yourself," Evan pointed out. "Just like you brought this on yourselves." He hadn't completed the sentence when the door burst open, drawing Brian's attention from Lorne for a moment.

That was all he needed. His right hand shot out rapidly, knocking the gun from Green's hand. Lorne followed that up with a fist to the gut, standing back and watching dispassionately as Brian crumpled with a breathless wheeze, hands clutching his stomach.

He recovered quickly, lunging at Evan's legs and taking them both to the floor. Rather than scramble up as Brian probably expected, Lorne launched himself across Brian's chest, pinning him to the floor. Slamming a fist to the other mans check, he grinned darkly. "That's for my sister," he said grimly - a cliche but true nevertheless - following that up with another punch to the other check and the words "and that's for ruining my holiday!"

Brian took the hits with more ease than Evan was expecting, rearing up suddenly and head butting Lorne under the chin. He fell backwards, rolling to stand up just in time to receive an elbow in the back.

"_That's it!_" he thought, surging up and pummelling Green with repeated hits to the torso. Brian tried to block but Evan was too fast, clearly done with polite conversation. Lorne threw in a few kicks as well, finally ending it with a well placed elbow to the jaw that saw Brian's eyes roll back in his head before he hit the ground hard and stayed down.

While Evan had been fighting Drew, Trent Parker and a contingent of security personnel had descended on the room, quickly apprehending the Luca's who didn't resist.

Breathing hard, Lorne staggered as he straightened, putting a hand to his ribs.

"You okay?" Drew asked lightly.

"Yeah," Evan nodded before looking at Maria and Harry.

"We really are sorry Evan," Maria said remorsefully. "We never meant for anyone to get hurt."

"You might not have meant it but that's what happens when you start messing around with serious criminals like that guy," Lorne pointed out sharply. "You're damned lucky no one else has been hurt over the years ... at least not physically. You cost a man his career and a bit of his sanity," he said, referring to Anton, "not to mention what you've done to the innocent people doing time for your crimes."

"We will take them into custody now," Trent Parker announced after neither said anything in their own defence.

Nodding, Evan stepped aside, watching dispassionately as all three were taken away and the room was cleared.

"Feel better now?" Drew asked.

"Hell yes," Evan replied with a smile.

oOo

Of course it wasn't over there. Lorne and Drew had to make statements, fill in forms, and make themselves available for repeated recounting of the entire ordeal. The police insisted on having Evan checked at a local medical centre – apart from some minor bruising, already colouring his jaw with blues and yellows, he was pronounced fine.

Once all the official paperwork was done they had to make themselves available for expressions of gratitude – from the Louvre, and Gérard Perrie and Trent Parker; from Monsieur Durand at Interpol; and from the French police who were more than a little happy to be the ones taking charge of the capture of previously elusive criminals.

If that wasn't enough Evan and Drew also had to remove all the equipment they'd installed at the Louvre and return it to Taverny. Eventually though the French police announced that they could take it from there, the clear chain of events and the indisputable evidence from the Louvre enough to ensure all three culprits would see the end they deserved without Evan having to stick around for trials. They also promised to re-examine all cases previously solved that were now suspected of being connected to the Luca's ... anyone who had been set up, who'd been falsely convicted would get the full support and compensation from the governments concerned.

Even though he knew they were guilty - _big_ time guilty - Lorne felt a little bad for the Luca's. Despite their years of blatant thievery they'd lacked the true criminal menace of Brian Green and seemed to be more scared of him than friendly. Evan's police reports reflected that though, which might result in them getting a lesser sentence.

With Drew booked on the next flight to LA - not exactly on the way 'home' for him but Evan refrained from commenting - Lorne was almost ready to call it quits on France. There were a couple of things he still wanted to do though, the first being a phone call where he left a simple message.

"_Anton, its Captain Lorne. I hope you're getting these messages because I have news I'm sure you'll be more than a little interested in. With the help of Louvre security Drew and I captured Maria and Harry Luca last night, in the act of stealing The Ship of Fools. Them and their fence, Brian Green of the Green and Black Gallery in London. I'll let you work out the implications of that. Anyway, they're in custody in Paris and will stand trial for multiple counts of burglary and theft ... so you might want to dust off those old files and get yourself over here. Drew's heading home tomorrow morning – after which I'll be going on to The Prado. You weren't right to put my sister in danger like that ... but you were right about who the real thieves were – up to a point._"

oOo

All that remained as the day shifted into late afternoon was for Lorne to return to the Louvre. Events had progressed so rapidly he hadn't been able to visit the museum for its intended purpose. He heading straight for the Mona Lisa, moving on to the other major masterpieces, and then finishing just before closing time at Jean-Baptiste-Siméon Chardin's Grace.

It was a tender scene ... a mother teaching her children to recite a prayer before a meal. What it represented was beyond that though – Chardin intent on portraying hidden virtues, humble honest folk living a deserving life. The circle of figures representing the circle of tenderness and love that was central to the painting.

The contented life of duty.

Evan stood absorbing the mood of the piece, finding himself moved by the painter's message. It was both simple and powerful ... and timely for someone struggling to make sense of events that had shaken his belief in that life of duty.

Shaken but not broken.

**Authors Note:**

I know some of you suspected Brian Green ... you get to say 'I told you so!' ... I hope I managed to surprise a few of you though! I'm a bit nervous about this chapter re it feeling plausible - I did lots of research on art theft of the time as well as on what sorts of equipment was available for good and bad guys and from all I found it is plausible for things to be stolen from major galleries and for security to be run and beaten as I describe it - the only thing I couldn't substantiate is the size of tracking chips in 1999 so forgive the authors license taken on that detail. Just one chapter to go now ... I've added Grace to my website page, another excellent piece.


	11. The Triumph of Death

**Chapter 11: The Triumph of Death.**

_Location: Spain  
Key Date: None_

As abruptly as Evan's holiday had shifted from idle leisure to serious situation it shifted back again, the contrast leaving him struggling to truly relax. Although there had been much more he could have stayed to see at the Louvre the mood just wasn't there anymore ... when Drew packed for the return flight home Evan decided it was time for him to leave Paris as well.

"You going back to base?" Drew asked once he was finished with his own packing.

"Not yet," Evan replied, throwing the last items in his pack and zipping it closed. "I've still got a few weeks leave left ... and I always did want to see The Prado - Spain," he added when Drew looked curious.

"Right,' Drew grinned. "I suppose there's something there you just 'have to see'," he did the air quotes, his tone teasing.

"Not specifically," Lorne shrugged and then chuckled. "Actually there _is_ something I wouldn't mind seeing ... it's another Bosch ... The Garden of Earthly Delights."

"Bosch?" Drew laughed. "I don't know what disturbs me more - that you'd want to see another one of his works or the fact that I actually know who the hell you're talking about."

"Stick with us Lorne's," Evan said smugly. "We'll make a cultured man out of you yet."

"Elaine likes me just the way I am," Drew retorted with a smug grin of his own.

"That's only because you're her new 'work in progress'," Evan shot back. "You know, the more I think about it the more I'm liking this new relationship deal ... rather than spending her time trying to fix me she'll be devoting all her attentions to you. It's a win win for me."

"I think Elaine is more than capable of multi-tasking," Drew pointed out.

"True," Evan agreed, his expression deliberately worried. "We need to stick together ... back each other up ... create diversions to head her off, that kind of thing."

"Or we could just act like grown men," Drew suggested.

"You can try that approach - _I_ wouldn't, but you can give it a go," Evan struggled to keep from laughing ... pretty sure if Elaine could hear him she'd be laughing too, right before she smacked him one.

"You're full of shit Evan," Drew, acting in Elaine's place, slapped a hand to his arm hard enough to have him staggering even as he gave in to his laughter.

oOo

Lorne reflected on that moment as he stood at the windows outside Drew's gate watching his friends plane take to the sky. Nothing said better than that one conversation how far Evan had come since he'd started out from Vicenza two months before. He felt lighter ... more settled ... surer of his purpose than he had in a while.

Checking his watch and doing a quick time zone conversion in his head, Evan took out his phone and dialled a familiar number, eyes still on the tarmac outside as he waited for someone to answer.

"Hello," Elaine's cheerful voice greeted him.

"Lainee," he returned, the smile on his face evident in his voice.

"Evan!"

Her loud exclaimation had him holding the phone away from his ear for a moment. "Just thought you'd like to know that Drew is on his way back to you," Evan offered lightly.

"Aw, that's so sweet," Elaine replied.

"What ... that he's coming to see you first?" Evan frowned.

"No silly ... well, _yes_, but I meant it's sweet that you'd ring to tell me," Elaine explained. "Does this mean you've gotten over your grumpiness?"

"Hey, I wasn't grumpy about you and Drew!" Evan retorted.

"You so _were_," Elaine insisted. "Doesn't matter because I knew you'd come around." Not waiting for her brother to give a token denial to that, she swiftly changed the subject. "So, how are you feeling?"

"Now I'm officially out of the art-thief catching business you mean?" Evan queried. "I'm okay ... no permanent damage done."

"I still can't believe you knew the people behind it the whole time," Elaine commented.

"Makes me want to be a little less friendly," Evan admitted. He sighed. "I know they were criminals but even after I confronted them they just didn't seem the type."

"That's probably why they got away with it for so long," Elaine suggested.

"Maybe," Evan allowed. "I wonder whether it was something they did in their youth - you know, a moment of immature indescretion. Once Brian Green had his hooks into them they had no choice but to keep going."

"You've got a good heart Evan," Elaine said softly once he fell silent. "I hope nothing ever happens to shake that."

"_No_ - I'm a tough guy fighter pilot," he corrected, glad she couldn't see the flush of embarrassment he knew was on his face. "And don't you ever forget it!"

"No Sir, Captain Lorne Sir," Elaine said briskly, laughing softly. It was beyond good to hear him labelling himself that way, no matter what had prompted it. "Did you ever hear from Anton?" she asked.

"No," Evan admitted with a frown. "I left him a message but he never called back and we didn't have any other way of finding out what happened to him after Drew and I left the Tate."

"Brian Green?" Elaine suggested reluctantly.

"Maybe," Evan allowed. "I reported everything we knew to the French authorities. They said they'd check into it further - there's nothing else we can do."

"I guess," Elaine nodded even though he couldn't see her. "So ... are you coming home too?" she asked hopefully.

"Eventually," Evan replied. "I want to see The Prado first."

"Ooh, that's not fair!" Elaine complained enviously.

"I'm sure you'll get there one day," Evan said reassuringly ... the least he could do since he still felt responsible for her being unable to continue the art gallery tour with him. "I guess Mom's not there?" he asked hopefully.

"No," Elaine replied. "Late classes at school tonight. She'll be disappointed she missed your call."

"Tell her I said Hi," Evan requested. "I'll contact her soon."

"Okay," Elaine sighed, her voice low as she continued. "I miss you." It was true ... she always missed her brother when he was stationed outside of easy access for visits home but even more so now that she'd spent so much time with him in one block. It had been a long time since she'd been able to do that and she'd gotten used to having him around.

"I miss you too," Evan admitted. "But if you tell anyone I said that I'll deny it."

"Right - tough guy reputation to protect," Elaine smiled.

"Exactly." Evan agreed, glancing at his watch with a frown. "I have to go Sis ... I'll talk to you and Mom soon okay."

"Okay," Elaine said. "Take care ... stay away from criminals!"

"Very funny," Evan shook his head. "I'm going."

"Bye!" Elaine yelled as he moved the phone away from his ear. "Love you!"

"You too Sis," he replied softly, hanging up.

oOo

Like he'd told Drew, Lorne had always wanted to go to The Prado, for its collection of works by El Greco, Goya, and of course for Hieronymus Bosch's most well known work.

For nostalgia's sake he took the train from Paris to Madrid, enjoying the fourteen hour overnight trip even though he'd probably have enjoyed a flight even more so. He'd tested that knowledge within himself, realising that during the course of his visit to Paris something had shifted inside.

He hadn't gotten anywhere being 'Mr Lorne', only achieving something once he'd returned to being who he really was. Captain Evan Lorne, United States Air Force. He was comfortable with that ... as Elaine had said, it was who he was _meant_ to be.

Getting off the train at Chamartin station mid morning, Evan consulted his map again, deciding to walk to The Prado despite the fact that it was likely to take more than an hour. His thoughts wandered as he walked the wide streets, hardly noticing the fountains in the middle of the Plaza de Colón. He saw the museum in the distance even before he turned onto the Paseo del Prado, another large stately building, this one lightly coloured but still with the classic column entrance jutting out. It was busy on the street outside, locals walking by perhaps not even aware of the treasures that lay in the building across the lawn.

He knew and was eager to see them. Checking his bag at the front desk he purchased a guide book and then just let whim guide his direction. The Annunciation, Descent of Christ from the Cross, The Holy Trinity, The Three Fates, La Inmaculada de Soult. He saw them all, but the painting that had the most impact wasn't one he'd even actively considered seeing.

Pieter Bruegel the Elder's The Triumph of Death.

It was a macabre scene reminiscent of Bosch's style, busy in a way that had you looking closer, noticing things you'd never seen before no matter how many times you viewed the painting.

Evan read the accompanying information about Bruegel's piece as he studied the work. Completed in 1562 it was believed to have been inspired by the worsening political climate before the Eighty Years' War - either that or the artist had meant it as an allegorical depiction of the horrors of war in general.

Lorne didn't see that. Yes the picture was rife with scenes of death – skeleton armies advancing on the living who fled in terror or attempted to fight back, neither with success. The skeletons killed all before them, slitting throats, hanging, drowning, and cutting them down with a scythe from horseback. It was gruesome and confronting but the thing Evan found most interesting was that the artist had depicted peasants, soldiers and nobles alike all suffering the same fate.

It wasn't a comment on the horrors of war, and it wasn't the artist's blatant announcement of atheism. What Evan could see in the painting was a very simple message. There was no escape from death – whether you chose to fight or run away in fear, no matter your station in life, eventually death would find you.

Perhaps he should have seen that as depressing ... but he didn't, because it was a 'right between the eyes' reminder. You couldn't change where you were going to end up but you _could_ change how you got there. You could make it meaningful, do the right thing – do your _duty_ – or not. The choice was yours.

John Jones had made _his_ choice with eyes wide open, with a confident belief that he was doing good, making a difference. And he had. The people in those trucks he'd escorted safely to their destination got there because of John ... and the people who'd been helped by the supplies and care that had been delivered as a consequence had also survived because of his efforts. John had chosen a path that had led to an early end but Evan had to admit to himself that even if John had known beforehand that doing what he did would have that result, he'd have done it anyway. Because that's who he was and if you couldn't be true to yourself, then what was the point?

"It is a powerful piece, is it not?"

Evan was startled from self reflection by a familiar voice.

"Anton!" he looked at the other man in surprise. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," Anton replied. "I received your messages but an impersonal phone call in return just wouldn't have felt right."

"You don't have to -," Evan began.

"I _do_," Anton interrupted. "I must apologise ... to you it must have seemed as though I dropped off the planet, abandoning you and your friend to handle things alone."

"It _did_ seem that way," Lorne admitted. "I even began to wonder if maybe there was more to your involvement than just wanting to get the criminals who ruined your career."

"That is understandable," Anton agreed. "I hate to admit to the truth, because it makes me look the fool."

"He got the drop on you, didn't he?" Lorne surmised. "Brian Green."

"He did," Anton admitted, "although at the time I was not aware that it was him. He hit me from behind ... tied me up and left me to be found beside the empty place where Ophelia should have rested. It took me days to prove that I was not involved ... in fact, without your phone call I believe I would still be there arguing my innocence."

"Well he's getting what he deserves now," Lorne replied. "And if it makes you feel any better there was an ... _altercation_ in the course of apprehending him."

"You hit him?" Anton asked in surprise.

"Several times," Lorne admitted. "But he hit me first."

Anton laughed, seeming for the first time since Evan had met him to be truly relaxed inside.

"So, what will you do now?" Evan asked curiously.

"Interpol offered me my old job back," Anton revealed. "Since it turns out I was right all along they could hardly do any less."

"You'll take it?"

"I will ... after I've taken a holiday ... at home," the other man replied. "It has been too long since I just sat and enjoyed my own space."

"I can understand that," Lorne sympathised.

"And you Captain?" Anton enquired. "What will you do after The Prado?"

"I'll be going home too," Evan said with a smile. "Back to Italy to start with, and then hopefully a posting closer to my family." He'd decided as he'd looked at Bruegel's work that he'd return to duty at Vicenza first - serve out his time before seeking a transfer to the States. He needed to 'get back on the horse' so to speak, confront the past and confirm for himself that he was dealing with it.

"Well then, I wish you good luck Captain Lorne," Anton held out a hand.

"You too," Evan took the proffered hand, shaking it firmly.

Anton took his leave, leaving Lorne alone with The Triumph of Death. He wouldn't forget John 'Slammer' Jones, wouldn't bury the lost behind his mask of stoicism. Death was too often the time when the measure of a man was taken ... in John's case he'd more than measured up, and Lorne could only hope to do as well when his time was up.

oOo

Sitting in his hotel room that night, Evan stared at the blank piece of paper in front of him for only a moment before he began to write. It seemed fitting that a journey that had started with a letter should draw to it's conclusion with one as well.

"_Dear Mom,_

_When I say don't worry about me, this time you really don't have to - honestly. I'm fine ... more than fine. The situation with Interpol and the various authorities has been resolved and everything is again right in the European Art world._

_I saw the Mona Lisa, and Grace, and ... so many wonders I can't even begin to describe them. I've enclosed a sketch I did before I left Paris ... hopefully it will give you an impression of what it was like seeing Grace in person ... the emotion if nothing else. That's the idea anyway!_

_I'm in Madrid right now, at The Prado ... and tomorrow I'm going to see The Garden of Earthly Delights ... you know how much I'm looking forward to that._

_And then I'm going home ... back to Vicenza at first but then hopefully home to the States, at least for a while. _

_When I get back, ask me about Captain John Jones. He was a loyal friend, a talented pilot, and a good man ... killed in the line of duty a month before I left the base. You'd have liked him._

_That's it for now ... I know it's a short one but I'll be seeing you soon ... I'll tell you all about it then._

_Your loving son, Evan._"

**The End!**

**Author's Note:**

It's finished ... I feel almost sad! The Triumph of Death has been added to my website page - it's a very interesting piece so click that link on my profile to have a quick look. The Bosch I mention in this last chapter - The Garden of Earthly Delights - is the only work I referenced to any great degree in the story that I'd already heard of - after doing a 10,000 piece jigsaw puzzle of it years ago it is VERY familiar LOL!

At this point I must acknowledge the wealth of sources used for this story. The websites of all the galleries Lorne visited were invaluable for contents and floorplans and the look of each place; Google maps - how else would I know how long it takes to get from A to B?!; Wikipedia - too many pages to mention them all - artists, galleries, police, weapons, works of art, hotels, the Chunnel ... you name it and I probably looked it up; the websites of the various cities Lorne visited - I visited them all too - via the internet anyway!; interrail and eurorail sites for all the information on train journeys; the american hotel website - the only named place Lorne stayed at that does exist; the Interpol website; websites of the various police or equivalent authorities; popular names in France and The Netherlands to name my OCs authentically; video_surveillance_guide dot com; and the museum_security_org article on art crimes in 1999.

I hope everyone enjoyed this story ... this is the point where you can let me know what you thought by leaving me a review! Are people bored with my current obsession with Lorne's background? I have another shorter piece already written which is fluff heavy plus plans for another more serious story between that and the beginning of Forlorn Hope ... are people still interested in this?

So, anyway, thanks for reading! I'll post my fluff piece in a few days. Take care ...


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